That's What We Said
by AwkwardYoga
Summary: Two authors, one post-it note, no plans... Your guess is as good as ours. Rated M for language and...lemons? again, we have no clue where this is going, so...maybe?
1. The Move

**A/N:** Yeah, so...we're are totally flying by the seat of our pants here, and if you're up for a crazy journey, then welcome aboard! We've determined that this endeavor will either be epically awesome or incredibly fail. Either way, we're having a hell of a time. We hope you enjoy!

A huge, sloppy, wet kiss to our sweet and saucy beta, Lexiecullen17. She makes our words purdy. Any mistakes left are totally are own.

* * *

"Do you want to pay your bill? Say yes or no."

"Yes."

"I'm sorry, we could not get that. Please repeat," the mechanical voice stated.

"Yes."

"You said, 'no,' is this correct?"

"No."

"Do you want to pay your bill? Say yes or no."

"Yes," I enunciated as clearly as I could.

"I'm sorry, we could not get that. Please repeat."

I refrained from tossing my phone across the room and took a deep breath.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry, we could not get that. Please repeat."

At this point I just started pressing random buttons in hopes of speaking with a live person, not that it was even a remote possibility. I pictured the call center for Verizon, and it was not kind. In my mind it was just a bunch of computers -- and maybe some monkeys pushing buttons, because the level of customer care I was receiving now did not paint a prettier picture.

"YES! YES! YES!" I shouted.

"Can you hear me now motherfuckers?" I ended my tirade, desperate to get through to somebody...anybody.

"Miss Swan?" a rather kind, human voice on the other end of the line broke me from my fragile mental state.

"Y..yes?" I replied, almost fearful that I had been hearing things.

"Hello, Miss Swan. This is Bree at the Verizon Call Center, how may I assist you today?"

I breathed a sigh of relief before launching into my story. I had received a text on my cell phone that said my bill payment was past due, but the only problem was that I had never received a bill. I didn't understand what had happened since I was usually aces when it came to paying bills. Bree swiftly checked her computer and alerted me to the fact that my bills were being sent, but apparently they were still going to my old address. I groaned, wondering what else had not made it to the new place. I thought I had been thorough when I checked off all the little boxes at the post office for forwarding my mail. I _had_ been a tad distracted by the cute postal worker behind the counter, but I was relatively certain I had marked off all the correct boxes. I mean, almost one hundred percent certain. Now that I was really thinking about it, maybe it was more like eighty percent. Or sixty percent certain. Yeah, definitely sixty percent...

However, that was not the case. Now I had to deal with figuring out which of my mail was still headed to the old place and how to fix that. My first stop was the post office, where I was bummed to see that Hottie McMailman wasn't working. Instead, I had to deal with the Wicked Witch of the West's long lost twin sister, the Wicked Bitch of the West Side.

"Miss, I can't do anything about it. Once you've filled out the card, you can't go back and fill out another one. It is not the US Postal Service's fault that you filled it out incorrectly."

"But..." I stammered, trying my best to explain how, yes, in was in fact their fault. Perhaps if they did not hire such pretty boys to work behind the counter, I would have been able to fill out the form correctly. The Wicked Bitch was having none of it, though, and held up her hand to silence me.

"You'll have to take it up with your various bill collectors and others who may send you correspondence," she said in a clipped tone, looking at me as if it was doubtful anyone else would ever send me mail.

Without letting me get a word in edgewise, she barked out, "Next!"

Looking around for somebody else to help me, I found no one, and had to settle for shuffling out of the post office, dejected, my mission a complete failure. I made a mental list of all the people and places I would need to call to ensure they had my correct new address. But what could be done in the meantime? I had only moved a few blocks away from my old place, so I figured it couldn't hurt to swing by and see if the new tenant would be so kind as to gather any mail of mine that might have come. I knocked a few times, but nobody answered. Rifling through my my purse, I tried to find some paper and a pen.

Two boxes of Tic Tacs, a tampon, a cracked pair of sunglasses, three hairbands and a half eaten piece of Bubble Yum later, I finally found a blank piece of paper to write on. Granted, the other side was for a buy one-get one free coupon for cat litter that somebody had left in my new mailbox. I didn't have a cat, but perhaps the new tenant did and I was doing them a solid by giving them this coupon. Unfortunately, I couldn't find a pen, so I had to resort to using some clumpy mascara I found. It was either that or the Berry Sexy lipstick Alice insisted I carry in my purse, you know, in case of a make up emergency -- poor thing had never seen the light of day. I wasn't sure what to say, but I knew it had to be brief, since the mascara was sort of dry and my 'ink' was limited.

_Dear new 201A, You have my mail. Please return to 51 W. 86th St. Apt #3D. kthxbai. _

I thanked my lucky stars that Renee kept sending me all that LOLcats junk. Never before had I so desperately needed a seven letter way to say 'hope that's alright, thank you and goodbye.'

I didn't have any tape, and was wary that if this new tenant did indeed have a cat, and I tried to slide the note under the door the cat would probably pee on it, or the mascara would smudge, because knowing me, I probably didn't shell out an extra few bucks for the non-smudge kind. Instead, I rifled through my purse again until I spotted the Bubble Yum. I had started chewing it earlier in the day, but then I had ordered a coffee, so I had saved the barely touched piece for later. Now was the perfect time, so I popped it into my mouth and started chewing, making it nice and gummy. When I was satisfied with the texture, I pulled it out and stuck it to the back of the note and attached it to the door. I sniffed the air a little and hoped the new tenant would appreciate the faint smell of grape that now scented the air. Hell, it was much better than the ammonia odor the hallways usually had. Pleased with my work, I gave one more glance around the old digs before deciding to head back to my new place, hoping that the new occupant of 201A would send my mail along soon.

I heard a door creak open and ran as quietly as possibly down the hall, hoping that whoever it was didn't see me. It wasn't that I didn't like my old neighbors, but the thought of having another half hour discussion with old Mrs. Cope about the bunion on her toe was just not appealing at the moment. I breathed a sigh of relief as I made it out the door and down the street, slowing down my pace to walk the rest of the way to my sweet new pad a few blocks away.

I was finally free of the ammonia-laced hallways and Mr. Strankle's powerful b.o. -- strong enough to persist through even the toughest hospital grade cleaners. But most importantly, I was finally free of Lauren, the world's worst roommate. Lauren had responded to my ad on Craigslist looking for somebody to split the rent at 201A. She seemed totally normal at first. Lauren worked as a paralegal and played in a jazz band on the weekends. She was friendly when we met up for coffee to discuss things, and I really didn't think twice when I asked her to move in.

I should have thought twice.

Within a week of her moving in, Lauren's true colors began to seep through, and they were ugly. And not the sort of ugly that is kind of cute and kitschy like chartreuse. No, Lauren's colors were all nasty mustard and shit brown. That girl was seriously crazy. It started with seemingly innocuous things that most people, I assumed, had to deal with regarding roommates. I let it go at first, because I guessed we all had bizarre habits...hers were just more bizarre than most. Lauren would practice her trumpet at all hours of the night, which drove me absolutely wild. She also had a habit of cooking the weirdest meals. Cabbage seemed to make a frequent appearance in her dishes, and as a result, our apartment retained a faint odor of cabbage permanently. I wondered if the new tenant was a fan of cabbage.

If it had only been the three AM trumpet solos and the scent of cabbage, I might have been able to maintain, but of course, those things were only the tip of the iceberg. Lauren claimed to be vegan, proudly displaying wall size PETA posters in her room and chastising me every moment for snacking on a hunk of cheese or slice of salami. I might have been able to take her holier-than-thou rantings if it wasn't for the fact that little by little, my own stock of totally non-vegan food started to deplete. I never had any solid proof, but I once found a wrapper for a Slim Jim in Lauren's room, and that pretty much sealed the deal. The crazy chick was busy promoting her heady vegan lifestyle any chance she got while she secretly scarfed down all sorts of meat and cheese.

The last straw that had me clamoring for a new place to live was when I discovered that she had been stealing my newly laundered underwear when she ran out of clean ones herself. I had to hold back the vomit that arose as I recalled that unpleasant memory. I was beyond thankful when my best friend, Alice, told me that her current roommate was moving across the country and she had a spare room for me. I was able to ditch the crazy, move in with my bff and have a killer new apartment all in one fell swoop.

When I told Lauren I was moving out, she burst into hysterics, claiming that she'd never be able to afford the place on her own. I shrugged my shoulders and told her to figure it out. Apparently the way she figured it out was by moving in with her boyfriend. Good old cabbage head was his problem now. I made it back to my new place within a few minutes and breathed a sigh of relief, relishing the clean, sweet smelling air in the apartment. Flopping onto the comfy couch, I turned on our fancy-pants high def television that Alice's parents had bought her and began to drown my mail troubles in an afternoon long marathon of _Real Housewives_.

* * *

**A/N:** *peeks out from behind potted plant in the corner*

So...is there any interest in seeing this insanity continue...?

Next up is Edward and...well, you know what? I actually have no clue wtf Edward is up to. Only Lara does, so I'll be waiting with y'all to meet this fine fellow. - Yoga


	2. Deadbolt

**A/N: **Well, helloooo there. Allow me to express my thanks to you all for joining us on this most spectacularly RIDICULOUS journey.

Huge, epic, massive, and MAJOR thanks to my sexy as shit betafish, **Lexiecullen17**. Without her, this would be a bigger disaster.

Ladies, and if there is the possibility of Gentlemen, I give you… **Hackerward**!

**Disclaimer:** We don't own Twilight. We're just letting the characters make their own decisions.

* * *

"Thanks for helping me out with this, Emmett. I appreciate it," I said, climbing out of my car and walking over to the moving truck Emmett parked in front of my new building.

"Aw, no problem, lil' bro," he answered, stepping out of the cab and ruffling my hair in his massive hand.

"Stop it!" I whined, pushing his hand away and attempting to tame the wild mane of copper-colored hair on my head. Not that it would help, as I always looked like I stuck a fork in an industrial-grade toaster. Albert Einstein had a better look than me.

"Glad to help. It's about time you moved out of Mom and Dad's basement."

"Shut up, Emmett. You know it wasn't like that..."

"Yes, it was!" he exclaimed. "You live on your damn computer! I get that you're all 'high-tech ninja' or whatever, but come on! At least now you're living in the real world. And maybe we can get you some sun. You need it."

Looking down, I noticed that my skin appeared almost translucent in the bright sunlight as we walked to the back of the moving truck to remove the boxes. Maybe I did need to catch some UV's - channeling my inner Casper was not the way to mesh with society in New York City during July. I yawned and pushed the frames of my glasses further up the bridge of my nose.

"You might be right about the sun thing, Emmett. Aren't I bit pale for this neighborhood?" I asked, looking at the tanned New Yorkers walking along the street. Climbing into the moving truck, I passed two boxes to Emmett and watched as he placed them on the ground. Graceful, he was not - more like an elephant in a midget village, he typically looked eight sizes too large to blend in anywhere.

"Bro, you're a little pale for every neighborhood. But chicks dig that whole, pale and scrawny thing. Plus, you're like, King of the Nerds...it'll work for you."

Chicks. The one part of life I hadn't quite figured out yet. That wasn't true. I had ...once. One night during my senior year of undergrad at MIT, there had a girl...well, not for the whole night. Fine, not even for half of the night.

_Okay, it lasted less than ten minutes, fuck off. No one but me had ever touched my dick before..._

She didn't take the whole, "I'm sorry, just give me a minute, a map, and detailed instructions," thing well and teased me for being a fumbling idiot. I'm fucking sensitive, so I stayed away from the fairer sex. And by stayed away, I mean hid in my parent's basement doing what I do best for the past four years. Hacking.

Then again, what else was I supposed to do with a degree in Electrical Engineering and Computer Science from MIT? Not that any of my skills were learned in actual classes. Most of what I knew came from hours of self-learning back in high school...in between sessions of self-love, because face it, seventeen year old boys are all about masturbation. My knowledge merely expanded during my undergrad years. It was perfected, and as soon as I graduated, the world was at my fingertips. All from the comfort of my parent's basement. With the only pussy I would ever need - Linux.

_She's my cat, you sick bastards. It's not like I kidnapped a girl and kept her chained in the basement with me..._

"Edward!" Emmett yelled, breaking me out of my trip down memory lane. "Stop having sex with yourself in your head and move your shit!"

"I wasn't fucking myself!" I shouted back, and several bystanders looked at me in horror. Emmett laughed. "Just, help me out, will ya?"

While Emmett grabbed the two boxes from the curb, I walked back to my car to remove my "gear" first and move into my new home. There was no way I was leaving my fucking computer shit in my hot-as-balls car for anyone to take when I wasn't looking. This may have been the West Side, but... I wasn't taking any chances.

"Hey, Em?" I called out from the truck of my Volvo. "Can you handle another box on this trip?"

"Yeah, sure." Handing Emmett the case with my self-enhanced Macbook Pro, I grabbed the boxed holding my two 27" iMacs, hit the "lock" button on my keys, and made our way through the lobby towards my apartment. Why the building had apartments starting with the number two was beyond me, but it meant I didn't have to climb up and down stairs, which was fucking sweet.

"Shit!"

"What, Edward?"

"I think I fucking forgot to lock my car."

"Dude, I heard it beep."

"Just, head down. It's 201A. And I'll be over in a second."

I ran outside to the street under the guise of locking my car, when in fact, I went to grab my box 'o porn. Emmett would never let me live it down if he saw it. Granted, the majority of my porn was on my hard drives, but I'd taken to collecting all issues of Maxim, Playboy, and Sports Illustrated from the past few years.  
_  
Fuck you, I read the articles._

Or,_ maybe I like to scan some of the images on my computer and animate them using flash. You would too. Don't fucking lie and say you wouldn't want to watch Eliza Dushku dance to Warrant's "Cherry Pie"...  
_  
Unlocking the car, as I knew it was locked, I snatched the box from the backseat. That box was really fucking heavy, and I strained under the combined weight of the laminated pages. The damn thing must have been at least a metric "you're-going-to-remain-a-practical-virgin-forever" ton, but I managed to push it through the lobby. Emmett was standing in the hallway, taking up all of the space possible, and I saw the shoes of someone behind him from my bent-over perch on the heavy box.

"Emmett," I chastised, "move your behemoth-self out of the way, assbag. Someone is trying to get by you."

"Oh, sorry," he apologized and squeezed himself against the wall, looking ridiculously uncomfortable. Kind of like you'd imagine an orange would feel when you're making fresh OJ. I laughed. That was when I saw something beneath his fucktardedly large foot.

"Em, what did you drop?" I asked, angrily. I knew that asshole would fuck with my shit.

"What are you talking about?"

"There's something underneath your foot. Move your big fucking feet, Sasquatch." He lifted his right foot. "No, the other one."

Whatever was below his mammoth stompers was stuck to his shoe. Pushing my way next to him outside of my apartment door, I reached down and grabbed the piece of paper. Or tried to. It was stuck.

"Get it off, Edward! I'm not walking around like some clueless broad with TP attached to her hooker heels, damn it!"

"Fuck, I'm trying! It's like, cemented!"

The hallway was humid from the summer air, and when I tried to remove the paper, it split in half. Attempting to grab the remnants of what looked to be a cat litter coupon, I ended up destroying the paper into five different pieces before I discovered the culprit. Gum.

"Emmett, you've got gum on the bottom of your shoe."

"Fuck! What was it?"

"Gum. Maybe grape or something."

"Not the gum, asshole... the paper."

"Oh," I said, pushing the papers in my pocket. "Not too sure. I'll look at it inside. I don't want to just stand around in the fucking hallway trying to put together a puzzle." Then again, I could solve a Rubik's cube in under a minute. I was fucking good like that.

_Or, maybe I needed something to do with my hands while my dick recovered from self-abuse..._

"Alright, well... open the fucking door. Your shit is heavy." Emmett's voice was strained.

_He could have just put the shit down on the floor while he waited. Fucking idiot._

I stood up and tried to unlock the door, failing for a minute before finally being able to get the damn thing open; the overwhelming stench of hot vegetables bled out into the hallway. Turning my head away, I closed my eyes and tried not to throw up.

"Eddie," Emmett coughed out. "What in the fuck is that smell? It's smells like the nursing home where Grandpa Aro lives."

I put my hand over my face to try and mask the stench. "Fucking hell, that's awful. Look, I'm going to call a professional cleaning crew and stay at Mom and Dad's tonight with Linux. I can't have her living in here. The building said they were getting rid of the smell."

"Well, clearly they lied, bro. Okay, let's get the rest of your shit."

Walking into the "garbage-dumpster-behind-a-Chinese-food-restaurant" smelling apartment, I noticed the entire entryway was littered with envelopes, magazines, and various pieces of paper.

"What the fuck?!" I exclaimed. "Where did all this shit come from?"

Emmett placed the boxes on the floor and picked up an envelope. "Looks like it's Isabella Swan's mail."

"Well, why the fuck is it here? Has she never heard of address forwarding?"

"Guess not. Who is she?"

I just stared at him for a minute, and then he made a gesture like, "well, come on...tell me about her," in the air between us. "How the fuck should I know, Em?"

"Because nothing around you and that fucking computer of yours is a secret."

"Well, this is the first I've heard of her," I said. Not that it would last. I was determined to figure out the mystery that was the previous tenant. "Anyway, let's just get the rest of my stuff, and I'll deal with this in a minute," I rushed out. The smell was overpowering as the air conditioning hadn't been turned on since the last tenant vacated the apartment.

"Seriously, bro. What's that fucking smell? You should get some incense. That may help."

"Incense?" I asked rhetorically. "Em, then the place would smell like a hippie's vegetable garden."

"Well, it'd be better than the cabbage stench you've got going on now."

"Cabbage!" I shouted. "_That's_ what that is. Wait, Em..."

"Yeah?"

"Didn't you used to play with those dolls when you were younger? Cabbage Head Fuckers, or something?" I teased.

"They were called Cabbage Patch Kids, asshole. And it totally got me the ladies in Kindergarden."

"Nice. Because that doesn't scream 'giggalo' from the rooftops."

"Well," he started and puffed up his shoulders, attempting to look macho and all-knowing, but he just appeared constipated. "Those dolls got me into Jenny's pants while we were playing 'doctor.'"

_Fuck, my brother played games mirroring more than sixty percent of porn when he was a kid? I shake in fear thinking about what he came up with in college.  
_  
"Real impressive, Em. Did you learn that game from the 'How to Become a Douche When I Grow Up' handbook?"

"Nope, Dad's Playboy collection." I looked at him in horror. "You're just jealous that I know the bliss of being between a woman's thighs, Eddie. One day, you'll figure it out."

And, as much as I hated to admit it, part of him was right. Women and Emmett had gone hand in hand for as long as I could remember. I think he stole all of the "I get pussy" genes from our parents during his time in the womb. Asshole.

"Well, fuck it," I said from the kitchen in my apartment. Let's grab the rest of my stuff before I get sick." Emmett walked out, and I followed, closing and locking the door behind me because I didn't trust the fuckers in my building either.

-~-

Four hours, twenty-eight trips, and three bottles of water later, all my stuff was finally moved into the apartment and Emmett was overseeing the cleaning crew inside. You've got to love how you can order anything, anytime, whether it be food or services in this city. Sitting in my car, I pulled the pieces of paper from my pocket and tried to put the mangled note together again. And, just as I suspected, it was a coupon for cat litter. I was pissed; I could have used it, too. Planning on trashing it, I noticed a black stain near the barcode at the bottom, and when I flipped over the note I saw the letters, "-bai" in what looked like cigarette ash.

_Who the fuck writes messages in ash? _

I flipped the papers over and tried to read the message, but the majority of the note was smudged. I adjusted my glasses and squinted to try to read the hidden meaning in the note.

"Whatchya got there?" Emmett asked, leaning into my passenger side window. I hadn't realized I'd left it open.

"Nothing," I answered quickly.

"Looks like you've got a note written in mascara."

Again, I was dumbfounded at Emmett's Sherlock Holmes-style detective skills. He was a plethora of useless knowledge.

"Mascara? Like, the shit that goes on a girl's eyes, and she looks like a raccoon?"

"Um, it can be a great beauty tool, Edward. It adds definition and volume," he stated.

"Yes, but does it tell me where you left your balls?"

"Fuck you, Edward. Let me see," he said while climbing into the car. He leaned over. "Hm, looks like... Dear new 201A, You have my mail. Please return to 51 or 91 W. 86th or 88th St. Apt #3D. Or #30. kthxbai."

_LOLcats? Isabella speaks LOLcats? _

"Wow, Em. How the fuck did you read that?"

"A girl used to pass me notes in class all the time in mascara." He shrugged. We were silent for a minute as he didn't expand on the matter.

"Aaanyway," I drawled. "Is the cleaning crew all finished?"

"Yep, just need to let the place air out for forty-eight hours. Then, it's all yours."

"Awesome. Thanks again for helping me out today."

"No problem," he said, punching me in the shoulder. "You have all of your computer shit back in here?"

"Yeah. Moved it back before the cleaning people showed up."

"Alright, well, I'm going to bring the moving truck back..." he trailed off.

"I'll follow you and bring you back to Mom and Dad's, right?"

"Sounds good. I'll catch a train back to NYC later," he answered and climbed out of the car. The moving truck pulled away from the curb, and I followed him as best I could through the Manhattan traffic.

-~-

It was completely silent in the basement at my parent's house in Jersey except for the sounds of Powerman 5000 blaring through the speakers on my laptop. Since the address Isabella left me was pointless, I figured I would have to track her down through...alternative means. After hacking into the Post Office's mainframe to acquire her new address, I'd discovered that she lived a few blocks away. It took less than five minutes for me to find her e-mail address, and after the eight beers I'd finished thanks to Emmett, I wrote her an e-mail.

**To:** brssmnkyjnkie (at) gmail (dot) com  
**From:** SecurityThru0bscurity (at) gmail (dot) com  
**Date: **July 12th, 2009 2:03am EST  
**Subject:** New Tenant at 201A

Isabella Swan,

I got your gum-covered message today on the floor. Address was unreadable. Where should I send the mail?

- New Tenant -

P.S. What's with the cabbage?

_See? I can use my skills for something productive. I won't steal her address from the Post Office...that way I don't seem like a stalker...  
_  
My drunken thought process was flawless.

Somehow, I managed to shut down the computer in my inebriated state and climbed into bed before promptly passing out with Linux against my face. Not even my last thought could keep me from losing consciousness thanks to my alcohol intake.  
_  
Shit, how the fuck do I explain how I got her e-mail address? _

_

* * *

  
_

**A/N: **We've got Yoga up next yet again! Much like you, I have NO clue what that means, but I'm looking forward it. Hope you enjoyed it!

Again, smooches to all of you that read, review, alert, or lurk out there. It means the world to us both.


	3. Ill Communication

**A/N:** Yay! So happy to see that a lot of you are on board for this crazy journey.I kinda have a little crush on Lara's Edward...anyone else? ;)

Huge boob gropes for our beta, **LexieCullen17** for working her magic on this shiz. Any mistakes left are totally my bad.

oh, yeah, and if I haven't mentioned it before, we totally don't own these guys - we just have them acting all fun like.

Now let's go see what Bella thought of Hackerward emailing her...

* * *

"Aaaaalice!" I whined, hoping she'd hear me and just come find me. I didn't want to move from my cozy spot on the couch.

"Yesssss?" Alice's voice trilled from down the hall.

_Damn._ She wasn't coming.

"My phone is flashing, but I don't have any voicemails or texts. I checked twice."

I kept pushing random buttons, hoping that if I pressed the right combination, the annoying blinking would stop. It didn't. _Double damn_. I cursed Alice for convincing me to get the fancy shmancy Blackberry instead of sticking with my trued and true Nokia. It wasn't as if I was a technophobe by any means. I had both a Facebook _**and **_a Twitter account for frick's sake; I was no Luddite. The fact of the matter was, I was just too lazy to sit and read through the stupid manual that came with the phone so I could figure out how to work all the bells and whistles. Once I figured how to receive and send calls and texts, I was good to go. But, apparently not, as the damn flashing light kept mocking me.

"Oh, yeah," Alice's shrill voice broke through my thoughts. "I set up your phone so it receives your email. It probably means you have something new in your box."

Before I could help myself, the next few words just slipped right out.

"That's what she said."

I burst into a fit of giggles at my own uncanny ability to work that line into everyday conversation. When I finally recovered from my laugh attack, I looked up to see Alice staring at me, shaking her head.

"You are such a teenage boy," she admonished, and I really couldn't do much but shrug my shoulders.

She tossed some mail at me before grabbing my phone, and punching a few buttons on it. While Alice played with the Crackberry, I rifled through my mail. Most of it was junk mail. I cursed the mail gods for allowing that crap to go through, but not the important stuff, like my bills. The last letter had the Barnard bursar's office as the return address.

_Ah...spoke too soon_.

It was a letter reminding me that I had a payment due for school, and I almost wished that somehow Barnard didn't have my forwarding address. Of course, the biggest bill had found its way to me. I grumbled as I mentally calculated how much I would be in debt by, but I was pleased to realized that since due to starting my part time job and the scholarship I had received, it wouldn't be too horrible this semester. I placed the bill back inside the envelope, promising myself that I would deal with it later. I peered back up at Alice, only to see her reading something on my phone.

"So, what was it?" I asked, glad to see that at least the damn thing wasn't flashing red anymore.

Instead of answering my question, Alice decided to ask me one of her own.

"Who's 'SecurityThru0bscurity'?"

"Huh?" My face scrunched up as I tried to place the name. "I have no idea who or what that is."

I held out my hand, and Alice returned the phone to me.

"Well, he...or she...seems to know you."

I read the email a few times, trying to decide just how I felt about it.

"So?" Alice squeezed in next to me on the couch and looked over my shoulder at the note. "What's the story?"

"I'm not really sure," I started, trying to figure it out myself. "So remember I told you about the mix up with my mail?"

Alice nodded, urging me to continue.

"So, I went to the old place, which still reeks like cabbage by the way, and ended up leaving a note for the new person since nobody was home. I just asked if they could drop my mail off. But, I didn't leave my email address..." I trailed off, still trying to discern how this person got a hold of it.

Alice wrinkled her nose, deep in thought, and I stared at the Blackberry screen, as if it would magically give me more answers.

"Are you sure you didn't write your email address down, Bella? You're kinda flighty like that."

I rolled my eyes at Alice, although I couldn't begrudge her thinking, since I did tend to be forgetful at times.

"No, I'm pretty sure. I used a mascara pen to write the note and didn't have much black stuff. So, I only included the essentials."

Alice stared at me in horror, as if I had just told her I wrote the note in my own blood.

"What?"

"You used your mascara to write the note. It goes on your eyelashes," she said slowly and enunciated each word like I was a three year old.

"Oh, really? Good to know. Thanks for letting me know. I was wondering why it smudged so much when I wrote a check."

Alice flicked my ear and then settled back with a huff.

"Fine. Whatever, have pale eyelashes, see what I care. Anyway, you're pretty sure you didn't leave your email address. So, how did this person get it? Did you leave it with the old apartment people. Maybe he or she got it from them?"

"No, this is my new one. Remember? When I moved out I changed it because Lauren kept emailing me to go out for coffee." I exaggerated the last word so it came out as Lauren would say it, 'caw-feeeeee.'

"Hm..." Alice continued, deep in Nancy Drew mode. "So, it's not from the apartment people. Maybe the new tenant is somebody you already know, and they're just messing with you?"

"Maybe," I said, testing out that theory in my head. "But the email address is too random. Who would have that?"

"Ooh!" Alice's eyes brightened with her newest idea. "Maybe it's some crazy, internet hacker who looked you up!"

At that, we looked at each other and broke out into a huge giggle fit. I pushed aside the mystery of the email to the back of my mind for the moment, and instead, concentrated on the latest episode of _RuPaul's Drag Race_ that Alice had just turned on. I loved Alice and her television with eight million channels. We spent the rest of the night watching fabulous men in drag, drinking wine and eating macaroni and cheese from a box. _This_ was what having a roommate was all about.

Before I headed to bed, I powered up my laptop. I checked my email and debated sending an email back to the new tenant in 201A, but I was still a little wary about how he got my contact info. Instead, I did what any normal American would do - I took out my annoyance in the most passive-aggressive way I could think of - Twitter. Right before crawling into bed, I typed in the little status box.

**Email I just got: helpful citizen or total creepster stalker? Jury is still out...**

I clicked the button to update and then shut off the computer. My head finally hit the pillow as sleep took me over. The next morning I woke up and quickly checked my email before heading off to school and saw that I had three new followers on Twitter. I had an open account because it wasn't like I was tweeting anything of the utmost secrecy anyway, so I always happened to get some spam followers now and again. The first followers was some spam person asking if I wanted to see Britney suck a big, hard..._click_. I deleted that one before I read any more. The next one was from a fellow Beastie's lover. I tended to get a bunch of followers because I tweeted the love for my three favorite boys pretty hard. With an twitter name like **NoSleepTill718**, it was no surprise when a person with the name **IRockAdRock** wanted to follow me. The third person was a bit of a mystery. The screen name was **JavaTheHutt**, but they had a locked account so I was unable to see anything besides an avatar that consisted of a black background and the phrase "There's no place like 127 0 0 1." I wasn't even going to pretend to know what that meant. I sent them a request back, so I could at least see who they were, and then shut my computer off.

Rushing to get dressed, I remembered to grab some snacks as I made my way out of the apartment, since I had work after school today. I shouted out a goodbye to Alice, wondering if she was even up. Her response let me know she was somewhat awake.

"Are you working today?" Alice called out.

"Yup," I shouted, with one foot out the door.

"Make sure to bring home some cookies this time!"

I grimaced, pissed that she still thought it was funny to joke about, even after all this time. When I'd been looking for a part time job, I thought I had hit gold when I saw that the Girl Scouts of America were hiring. I thought it would be the best job ever. I'd get to hang out with sweet little girls, doing arts and crafts and eating loads of awesome cookies. Yeah, there were no cookies. Instead, they had me working in an after school program for underprivileged middle school girls in a sketchy part of the city. Instead of the easy, breezy job I had hoped for, I was now immersed in my own after school special, but I absolutely loved every minute of. The girls were a breath of fresh air, and totally straight up honest with me. I loved them. After a few hours of helping them with math, grammar and maybe a boy problem or two, I headed back home, making a pit stop along the way.

I walked into my old apartment complex for what would hopefully be the last time. I gave a few loud knocks on my old place, but again, nobody was answering. Digging back into my purse, I pulled out a receipt to use as paper and was happy to find a writing instrument in my purse. Sure, it was a stubby crayon, but it was better than mascara. I penned another note and found a stick of Wrigley's and began chewing. After It was sufficiently sticky, I squished it against the receipt and then smashed it into the door, hoping it would stick better this time. I reread my note once more, and knew that there would be no mistaking what I was after or where to forward the mail to. Hopefully the possibly creepy stalker now residing in 201A would end up sending me my mail so I didn't have keep sticking gum to their door.

* * *

**A/N:** Hmm...I wonder who **JavaTheHutt** could be? *whistles innocently* And while we're at it, I wonder what Bella could have written in that note of hers... Perhaps Hackerward will clue us in? Or is he too busy with his box o'porn?

Tune in next time to see just what the heck happens in this plotless wonder of ours.

Oh, and while we've gone a bit fruitloopy and have updated like 3 times in a week - don't go expecting that from us all the time. We've got lives and stuff too, ya know...(okay, fine...we're prob just busy with our own boxes o'porn, but still...). We'll hopefully update at least once a week. or so. ;)


	4. Tweetness a Thank You interlude

**A/N: **We wanted to drop a little something fun in all your boxes (That's what he said!) to say thank you for being such fuckawesome readers! Seriously...we started this after an evening of non-sober g-chatting and it's turned into so much fun. This is just a mini chapter, and what happens when I (Yoga) said to Lara, "hey, want to role play and tweet, you know to show our readers how much we love them?" And, of course...Lara, being the awesomesauce girl who sips on my brand of crazy - says, "sure."

sigh.

oh, and Lara's chapter is coming soon(ish).

Massive boob gropes to **LexieCullen17 **who beta'd this crazy. Want to know why she rocks the casbah? Girl beta'd this all in LOLCat - she deserves an award or cheezeburger or something. xo.  


* * *

  
"Ouch!"

Even on a good day, I managed to bruise myself at least three times, but when I was slightly tipsy? The odds certainly went up. I had been aiming for my bed and instead had gotten a shin full of desk.

"Motherfucker, that shit hurts!" I cried, rubbing the already forming bruise.

I finally made it to my bed, with only enough energy left to toss my jeans and sweater into the corner of my room. A tank top and undies were going to have to suffice for jammies tonight. It was already two in the morning, and I had just got in from a wild night out with Alice. We had painted the town red, starting off in Brooklyn at Barcade, kicking asses and taking names at Frogger. We had made our way back towards the apartment, checking out a few more bars along the way. A night out with my girl always left me happy. I could hear Alice banging away in the kitchen, most likely looking for a bowl of Cocoa Puffs, her drunk snack of choice.

While my body was tired, my mind was still amped from the delicious combo of gin and tonic, but I wasn't drunk enough to actually pass out. With sleep nowhere near the horizon, I booted up my laptop and dragged it into bed with me. I checked my email first, stupidly clicking on an email from Renee. Just as I had suspected, another one of her LOLCats. I still couldn't understand why cats wanted to eat cheeseburgers and just deleted it without bothering to see what hijinx the damn kitties got into this time.

Rifilng through the rest of the emails, I deleted some spam because really, no, I did not want any information on "natural enlargement for her pleasure" or "FREE MEDS NOW!" I deleted those quickly before seeing what else I had. An email from work taunted me, but I knew better than to correspond with them when maybe, sorta drunk. So I saved that one and instead wrote back to a study group that I was in that next Thursday would be fine for a meet up.

Twitter was next, and I needed to come up with a new status update.  
**  
Back from bar hopping with my #1 girl. Frogger - your ass is mine.**

I then remembered the new follower I had picked up the other day and went to try and click on his name again. _Hmph_. His profile was still locked. The screenname made me curious, and I had nothing better to do, so I sent a follower request. Only seconds later did I see my "following" number increase by one and a new response, mentioning my name.

**JavaTheHuttt:** Frogger, huh? Ironic U went bar "hopping" and played Frogger.

Weird. JavaTheHuttt not only added me immediately, but tweeted me too. He or she must have been on as well. None of my contacts except Alice were on in gchat, so I was just bored enough to answer.

**NoSleepTill718:** Wow, clever. You think that one all up by yourself, or did your 10 year old brother help?

Nobody had ever accused me of being a nice (not quite)drunk. I waited to see if Java would respond.

**JavaTheHuttt: **My bro is 2 yrs older. He helped with leafy green substances 2nite. 4give stupidity.

Things were getting interesting now.

**NoSleepTill718** Greens, eh? You stocking up on your fiber? Big fan of spinach over there?

**JavaTheHuttt:** I'm not Popeye. But weeds made an appearance. :-P Ribbit.

I couldn't help but laugh. Not only did this person have a good sense of humor, but he was also a stoner, which always made for fun times.

**NoSleepTill718: **Be carefull froggy, I'm on a rampage tonight. No frog is safe around me. I'll be eating froglegs soon enough.

Froglegs? What the fuck? Clearly I was drunker than I thiought if I was coming up with freaky shit like that.

**JavaTheHuttt:** French cuisine is terrifying. So is your frog stomping rampage. I'm a vegetarian.

**NoSleepTill718: ** A vag-atarian you say? really?

**JavaTheHuttt:** Yep. I don't eat meat. I love stroking pussy though. So soft.

I almost snorted reading the reply. Homeslice was bringing it. Lord I loved dweeting.****

NoSleepTill718: Do you have a pussy with you right now?

JavaTheHuttt: FUCK! I mean, my cat... she's in my lap right now. Not... crap.

Doh. Homeslice wasn't bringing it, sadly. Now I felt awkward, like a dangling particple or something.

**NoSleepTill718: ** Oh, right, that's what I meant. I'm sure she's keeping your lap all warm. I mean, who doesn't love some pussy in your lap?

**JavaTheHuttt:**I do. Love pussy. Yep, that's me. Warm lap. Pussy. Yup.

It seemed like poor Java was getting all rattled. I wondered how else I could shake the kid up. At this point though, I wanted to make sure I was talking to a guy and not some random cougar or something.

**NoSleepTill718: **You love pussy huh? Sounds like my kind of guy. I like a man who knows how to stroke a pussy...

**JavaTheHuttt:** I do. A lot. Love pussy. Stroking it, making it meow and such. And it purrs. Mmhmm.

Damnit. Java didn't really confirm gender. I was going to push further, hoping I was tweeting a genuine male.

**NoSleepTill718: ** My pussy doesn't meow or purr, maybe I'm stroking her the wrong way? Care to share your technique?

**JavaTheHuttt:** Linux loves when I scratch behind her ears. A lot.

_Ugh._ This dude was not getting the hint. I was starting to get myself off thinking of some hot guy stroking a pussy, and _not_ a furry one. Why couldn't Java just play along? Maybe I needed to delve into his territory a little.

**NoSleepTill718: ** What are you wearing? I'm wearing a gold bikini and debating putting my luscious hair up in side buns...

**JavaTheHuttt:** Lil' bro is an idiot. But he's wearing some geek ass tshirt and jeans. A gold bikini huh, sugar lips?

**JavaTheHuttt:** BTW, you're really hot.

I got confused for a second, wondering what was up in the change in tone but then pieced together that maybe Java's brother was tweeting for him? At least this guy seemed like he had something interesting going on.

**NoSleepTill718: **Thanks bb. I bet you're hot too...how about a pix?

**JavaTheHuttt:** bb? whats that? I can send you a pic of lil bro. U want? Here: **http://tinyurl(dot)com(slash)ycarhxa**

**NoSleepTill718: **You know, a term of endearment. Like baby, or sweetcheeks even.

I clicked send and then ran off to check out the link he sent. I wasn't sure what I was going to find and wondered if they sent a picture of a monkey's ass or some porn... or heaven forbid a goddamn LOCat. Instead, I was relatively surprised at what I found. Instead of some random creep or uber-nerd, a hot tasty piece of manmeat popped up on my screen. He had a messy head of reddish-brown hair, a fucking chiseled jaw so fine that Roman statues would be jealous, and a five o'clock shadow that was just begging to be licked. He also looked insanely stoned.

**NoSleepTill718: **UNF! I don't think The Hutt ever looked so good. Yeah, you definitely look like a man who knows his pussy.

**JavaTheHuttt:** So, you think lil bro is hot huh? Boy doesn't know jackshit about ladies, but he's a fast learner.

**NoSleepTill718:** hmm...does he need a teacher?

**JavaTheHuttt:** He sure does. You single? Offering? I could make it happen. Leave it up to him...

**JavaTheHuttt: **...and you'll be dead first.

**NoSleepTill718: ** Spectacularly single, but I don't think he's ready for this jelly...  
**  
JavaTheHuttt:** Aww come on! He's a good kid. Just shy. You could break him out.

**JavaTheHuttt: **Plus the kid is a freakin genius. He'll learn. Fast. Show him once, he never forgets.

**NoSleepTill718: **I hope he's not too fast if you catch my drift. Then we could have problems.

While I waited for a response, I reread what Java's brother had written. Not only was this kid easy on the eyes, but he was some sort of genius? I wasn't so sure about the shy part. For all the bravado I posted on Twitter, I wasn't usually the aggressor in bed. I snorted as I realized I was actually thinking as if anything physical was a possibility with this Java character.

**JavaTheHuttt:** Listen I'm draggin him to my game in Central Park next week. Btwn 87th and 89th. Give him a shot.

**JavaTheHuttt:** He'll be the one in the shade with a laptop. Find us. Night!

I was about to write back when something suddenly occurred to me through my not-so-drunken haze. How the **fuck** did they know I lived in NYC?

* * *

You may or may not be able to find either of these spazzes on Twatter. I mean, Twitter. 


	5. Lots of MIPS But No IO

**A/N: Okay, okay, I know. I'm captain of the failboat. The update took forever. This is all my fault. If you need someone to come after with pitchforks and a lynchmob, I'm your gal. To try and get back on your good graces, since the readers of this story are unbelievably wonderful, I'm giving you a giant chapter. Yep, that's right. It's at least twice, almost three times as long as anything you've seen here so far. Hopefully, that makes my apology that much more... apologetic.**

**BUT! Do not expect chapters to be this long in the future. We're hoping for faster updates from now on, and the chapters will remain their usual size. **

**HUGE thanks to my love, lexiecullen17 for betaing this monster, and kicking my comma-hating ass. Massive, massive thanks for Yoga for not killing me for taking forever. Really, thank you. Happy birthday, sweetie. Hope it was wonderful!**

**LoD girls, I fucking love you all.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own it… and honestly, I think SM would file a restraining order or harassment suit if she ever read this… **

*****PSA: Drugs are bad*****

_**Take it away, Hackerward! **_

* * *

-- ~ --

I knew the day was going to be full of complete and utter shittastic wonder when the first thought I had was...

_Can someone turn off the sun, please? _

"I'm never fucking drinking again," I said to myself as I woke up with Linux's fur coating my tongue and cutting off my air supply. My head was pounding, and my mouth tasted like shit, but all I could focus on was the fucking hot ball of fluff currently kneading my forehead.

"Cat, please remove yourself," I begged quietly as I picked her up and placed her onto the bed next to me. Immediately, I was graced with a look that told me to "go fuck myself," and the only way I'd be out of the hole I'd dug myself into was going to involve tuna and treats.

_Needy, spoiled bitch._

I knew better than to speak that shit aloud, as Linux would tear my ass apart like a brand new scratching post. Very, very slowly, I slid away from the poofed furball giving me the stink-eye, carefully sat up at the edge of the bed, and slipped on my glasses. The world spun like an acid trip scene from a bad hipster film, and it took several minutes before I finally felt decent enough to try standing. I was ecstatic when I could move, as I had to piss like a pregnant woman, yet I still clutched at the walls on my way to the bathroom to keep from falling.

It didn't work.

"Goddamnit, Emmett!" I shouted as I tripped over his massive body and grabbed my skull while writhing on the floor in pain. Why did everything always seem so much louder when you were hungover? Dropping my voice to a whisper, I kicked my asshole of a brother in the side, which as I opened my eyes again, realized was completely bare. "Why is your naked ass on the floor?"

No noise except for the loud snores came from his hulking carcass, so at least I knew he wasn't dead. But it certainly didn't give me a fucking clue as to why he was naked in my hallway. There was no time for debate though. If I didn't get to the porcelain oasis soon, I was going to piss in my...fucking Hello Kitty pajamas? _ When the fuck...  
_  
Last night must have been ridiculous if I was wearing goddamn Hello Kitty pajamas. If I was being honest, I didn't even know I owned Hello fucking Kitty pajamas.

Fucking Emmett.

Dragging my ass off the floor, I finally made it to the bathroom, took care of business and washed my hands. Yeah, I fucking washed my hands - I even used antimicrobial soap. That was me, Edward fucking Cullen, shattering male stereotypes, one at a time.

I walked back toward my bedroom, stepping on Emmett along the way, and he didn't even flinch. We must have consumed more alcohol than I thought if the man didn't even budge when I put my entire body weight on his back without getting a reaction. Shaking my head, I looked over at my bed and gazed at Linux with pleading eyes. I couldn't stand to be on bad terms with the only female in my life that wasn't my mother. The look on her face showed me that she wasn't as pissed as when we woke up. She had taken over my pillow during my excursion to the bathroom. I walked over and scratched behind her ears, and with a loud purr and nuzzle to my hand, I knew all was well between us once again. That didn't mean that I wasn't going to spoil her with treats later. Picking her up and placing her in her favorite spot on my shoulder, I climbed the stairs to the kitchen to forage for breakfast.

The island of the kitchen was covered in various pastries and fruit, signaling that my delightful parents had company over. Company was the _really_ nice way of putting it... I groaned, knowing exactly what that meant for me. Instead of waiting for them to find me, I grabbed the can of wet cat food from the fridge and a scone-looking thing, then made my way back downstairs.

Linux tried to crawl off my shoulder and down my chest, swiping at the can in my hand, and I tried to nudge her back in place, only to be graced with a loud mewl and a claw to the nipple.

"Ow, Lin! That fucking hurts!" She wasn't pleased. Instead of retreating back to her spot, she dug her claws into my shoulder and nipple even harder, and I yelped. Loudly.

Shuffling over to her food bowl while juggling her, her food, and my own was like watching a dude in a porno walk to a bed with his pants around his ankles - highly entertaining and a whole lot of ridiculous. I set up her breakfast quickly, and she jumped down from my hunched over back like the prized princess she claimed to be all the time.

_Oh, by all means your highness, thank you for allowing me to be your royal fucking staircase..._

I walked back into my bedroom with every intention to put on real clothing, but all thoughts of that came to a screeching halt when my eyes were assaulted by Emmett's naked ass resting in the chair at my computer.

"Dude! Get your sack away from my goddamn equipment!" I yelled at him angrily.

He smirked. "Did you just ask me to move my junk away from yours?"

"What?" I asked, exasperated. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Umm, we're related, Bro. And while I don't mind more than one person gettin' down with me, I'm really not okay with you offering to be the third leg in my tripod escapades."

My jaw dropped, and my head spun out of control. "Could you possibly be more disgusting right now? What the fuck are you doing on my computer, Emmett? And for the love of all that is fucking holy, put some goddamn pants on!" He made no move to get up. "Seriously, get your nether regions off my chair! And sanitize it when you're done!"

He got up, pulled on what I assumed were his pants, as I'd never set eyes on them before, - there seemed to be a theme today - then walked back to the chair and sat down. "Better?"

"Much."

"So, what's the kitchen look like? Covered in food?" I nodded. His vague question answered what we had both come to expect from our parents' profession, as they ran their "operations" from out of the house. If there was a large spread in the kitchen in the morning, we knew there would be people staying at the house for the next four days. It had been like this for years. "Did you get a look at any of them?"

I shook my head. "No, but I didn't look for them. I was eager to get back down here and change my fucking pants. Speaking of which, when the fuck did I put these on?" I asked, gesturing to the item in question.

"Dude, did you just Vanna White your dick?"

"What?!"

"You just framed your 'parts' like Vanna White. Are you asking when you got your dick or when you got the pants?" I glared at him, walked to my dresser and pulled out clothes then headed to the bathroom to change. "Because you still don't have your dick, but you dug the pants out of the drawer last night saying that you wanted to get in touch with your 'feminine side' and the chick in the picture."  
_  
Chick in the picture? _

"What chick in the picture?"

"This one," he answered and pointed to the computer.

I walked over and glanced at the screen. Sure enough, the picture of the hottest fucking brunette with ridiculous bedroom eyes and a bangin' body was up on my screen.

Fuck.

The memories slowly started dripping into my brain, burning like acid through the walls of alcohol induced idiocy. I'd found Isabella's picture. She was sitting in a chair, winking at the camera and sure enough, there was a Hello Kitty fucking pillow in the background. Well, at least that explained the pants.

"Jesusfuckingchrist," I muttered, and Emmett nodded.

"So, who is she?" he asked.

"That's Isabella Swan."

"The cabbage chick?"

"Apparently so."

If I was being honest with myself, I'd have to admit that I didn't give a fuck if she bathed in cabbage in the hot summer sun with a satanic cult. She was fucking gorgeous. And, me being a social retard, sent her a fucking e-mail. Now, how in the fuck was I supposed to explain that?

Pushing Emmett to the side, I quickly shut down all of the windows and powered down my gear before grumbling to myself about never drinking again. He simply sat next to me, laughing his ass off, before finally catching his breath, and his face went back to its normal shade of douchebag.

"You should go for her, Edward," he said, and I shot him a look.

"Really? And how in the fuck am I supposed to do that?"

"People meet online all the time, E. It can't hurt to try and get to know her this way first. Actually, that might be better for you. She'll fall for your hermit-ass before she realizes you are socially handicapped in person. It's perfect."

I punched him. "Just stay out of it, Em. I'm going to take a shower, then grace the masses with my presence before they come looking for me. Do they know you're here?" He shook his head. "Well, at least you're safe. I have to stay here until at least tomorrow before I can move into my place. What are you going to do all day?"

Emmett smiled widely. "Just meet up with a few friends. I'll be back later though. I can go back to the city with you to help you move the rest of your shit in... Maybe even help you unpack."

"Alright, just... don't touch my fucking computer. Do you need a ride somewhere?" I asked, hoping that I'd be able to get out of the house, knowing what was going on here.

Of course, he wasn't going to help. "Nah, I called Felix already. He's going to come get me soon. Get in the shower, I'm sure Mom would love to introduce you." His smirk was obnoxious.

"Fuck off, Emmett." With that final statement, I waltzed into the bathroom, slammed the door, and turned on the shower.

The sound of scratching and Linux crying broke me out of my rage-filled haze, and I opened the door. I never showered alone. Most men would rather it be a real live female showering with them, but I was content to have my favorite pussy in the bathroom with me.  
_  
Dear fucking hell, that sounded terrible._

-- ~ --

Freshly scrubbed, I walked upstairs, prepared to face the reason I should have been placed in therapy at the ripe age of eighteen. When you're parents decide to quit their mainstream jobs and "start fresh," you never expect them to do what Emmett and I have struggled to comprehend for years. I made my way outside to the backyard, knowing that was where I would find both my parents and their "company" this afternoon.

"Is that the fruit of my loins?" my mother called out from under the massive gazebo-type structure they'd built when they started their venture.

"Hi Mom," I yelled back, still looking at the ground, giving her a chance to cover up. I'd been privy to my parents nudity far too many times than I cared to admit. After a moment, I thought I was safe, but upon raising my eyes, I discovered I was wrong.

This is the price you pay when your parents are exhibitionists.

It's worse when they open a "sexual exploration" retreat facility out of their home.

_Welcome to my life, ladies and gentlemen. _

"Edward, my beautiful boy! How are you? I was going to find you soon so you could meet everyone. Won't you come over and introduce yourself?" she asked, walking over in absolutely nothing at all.

Wrapping her arm around my waist, she tried to draw me in for a hug, but I froze, as I always did whenever my mother tried to hug me naked. I honestly didn't know how I made it in this house for so long with my sanity intact.  
_  
You're single. You live in a basement. Your girlfriend is your hand. And the only female contact you have is a cat._

_Fuck you._

_And you think you're sane? You're arguing with yourself._

_Good point. _

While I was "lost in thought," my mother took it upon herself to lead me over to the gazebo where my father and three other couples were sitting on fluffy pillows, completely nude. The guests of this particular retreat must have been at the "exploring intimacy" stage, as they all were perched in compromising positions, with the females astride the males - All except for my father, of course, who was lounging on a seat like one you would find in a bad porn or a psychiatrist's office, channeling his inner Burt Reynolds.

"Everyone, this is Edward, the wonderful product of Carlisle and my romantic adventures years ago! See what a healthy sexual relationship can give you?" my mother cooed, and I made the mistake of looking the guests in the eyes.  
_  
Don't look down. Don't look down... Just look at their faces... _

"How are you, son?" my father asked, and I shifted from foot to foot. No matter how many times I'd had to deal with my parents' career choices, it didn't make meeting these people, or talking to him naked any easier.

"I'm okay, Dad. How are you?" I managed to squeak out, wanting nothing more than to disappear.

"I'm doing very well, Edward. We've had such a productive morning," he answered, his voice dripping with innuendo. I tried not to gag. "Esme, my love, my wife, come back to me. You're far too tempting to be all the way over there. I want to feel your skin beneath my fingers."

My mother made her way over to my father and climbed on top of him, before she started speaking again. "See everyone? Verbal foreplay is just as important as physical action. Words can be just as stimulating as manual attention. It helps to enhance the experience for both partners."

I wanted to die. Right there in the afternoon sun.

"Okay Mom, Dad, I'm going to..." I trailed off, pointing behind me towards the house.

"Oh Edward, please stay for a moment. This particular group is here because they are hoping to get pregnant, as well as spice up their bedroom life. Having you here is such inspiration for them! You and your brother are living proof that our methodology works!" my mother said to me, but I refused to look up.

"Why did you stop at two, Esme?" one of the group members asked.

"Good question, Amelia. Why mess with perfection?" she answered, and suddenly I felt everyone's eyes on me. I felt like an ant getting burnt through a magnifying glass on the sidewalk.

"Edward," my father started after clearing his throat, and I looked up at him. Or tried to. My mother's body was in the way of his face. "Why don't you tell the group a little bit about yourself? We want to try and emphasize that a strong sexual bond throughout the months of pregnancy can help better a child's psyche as it forms within the womb. So please, tell them about you."

I debated whether or not living in the cabbage patch combined with toxic cleaning supply fumes was worth this kind of torture.

"Edward," my mother pressed.

"Okay, um..." I began, looking down at the ground once more and fisting my hands at my sides. "So, I'm Edward, obviously, and I'm twenty-five years old. I'm moving to New York City tomorrow, well, I was supposed to move the other day, but there was an issue with the apartment..."

"Edward, tell them about work." My father was always gloating about my profession.

"Yeah, so, I'm a consultant for a large security company. My job involves creating math based security programs for computers."

"You're so successful for someone so young!" a person from the crowd of naked explorers shouted.

"As you probably know already, we spent a lot of time 'improving' Edward's well-being before he was born!" my mother chimed in.

"It must have been at least three times a day for the majority of her pregnancy," my father added.

I didn't know whether or cry, vomit, or commit suicide in that moment.

"What about girls, Edward? Has one stolen your heart?" another group member asked, and I must have looked like Clifford the Big Red Dog with how hot my face felt.

Of course, my mother was quick to answer for me. "Oh no, our dear Edward would greatly benefit from one of our expanding horizons classes, but he has yet to take us up on the offer. He spends too much time on his computer and not enough between the legs of females his age."

Did I mention that I wanted to die? I could have killed Emmett for leaving me here this afternoon.

And he wondered why I never left the basement.

"Mom," I croaked. "Could we not?"

My father answered for her. "Son, there's no harm in masturbation. It's a healthy, natural action for all males. Isn't that right everyone?"

A collective agreement came from the naked audience, and I died a little more inside.

"Plus, it will help you build up your stamina. No one wants a premature ejaculator, and women definitely require more than one orgasm per session. You need to make sure you can last during intercourse, Edward," my father instructed.

"Okay, well, I imagine you all have a lot of um...exploration...to do. So, I'm just gonna head back inside." _And cry a little bit_.

"Sure, Edward. Please, don't be a stranger! You might learn a thing or two with this group!" exclaimed my mother. She turned her body to face me. "I want grandbabies, Edward. So, you'll be needing to improve your skills in the bedroom, or out of it for that matter, if you want women to stick around! Now, I know that you're well-endowed sweetie, but size isn't everything, and I think that you could be great if you just learned some technique. Your father and I would be happy to teach you..."

I cut her off before she could go any further. "Okay-thanks-everyone-nice-to-meet-you-enjoy-your-time-here," I rushed out, and ran back inside, not stopping until I was in my bed, underneath my blanket, hiding like a kid during a storm.

I didn't come out for the rest of the afternoon.

-- ~ --

"God, Em, it was awful!" I groaned, and stared straight at the ceiling with Linux happily curled in a purring ball on my chest.

"That bad, huh?"

"You have no idea. I mean, it's always bad, but this was just... God, it was pretty fuckin' awful. I want to permanently delete the memory."

Emmett laughed from the computer chair. "I can imagine. Did they demonstrate positions like they did when I brought my ex-girlfriend home from college?"

"Ugh, no. But they were talking about masturbating and technique and shit."

"Well, I've got the perfect plan for you. I think tonight calls for a little 'herbal healing' don't you think?" Emmett asked, and I looked at his face to see a scheming smile. That was never good.

"Emmett, no. You know I can't smoke pot. I get drug tested for work."

"When was your last test?"

"A week ago."

He clapped his hands loudly, stood up and started emptying his pockets. "Well, they certainly aren't going to test again anytime soon. Plus, you'll know when it's coming. I'm sure you've got your file at HR for work on alert or something. Come on, you know you want to. It's just what you need."

He had a point. And my number. I'd hacked into HR's database since the moment I signed my contract.

"I don't know, Em. You know how I get when I smoke."

"Exactly! That's why you should smoke with me. Please? I don't want to smoke alone, and Felix gave me some really good shit today. I had a feeling you would need it."

"Em..." I trailed off, still unsure.

"The power of pot compels you! The power of pot compels you!" he chanted, and if I really thought about it, I knew I could definitely use a little relaxation.

"Fine, Em. We'll smoke. But not too much, alright?" I attempted to sound convincing, but his answering grin told me I was in for a world of stupidity tonight.

"I brought Bongzilla!" Emmett shouted, excited. He'd named his bong after a disturbing streaking incident that involved me, him, the streets of NYC, and the song "Turning Japanese" about a year ago.  
_  
Listen, sometimes when you smoke pot outside behind a dumpster, you get fucking paranoid, and the fucking metal contraption resembles something out of Jurassic Park... You would have fucking run away screaming too. Don't judge me._

"Oookay. I'm going to feed Linux while you pack that shit. While I'm upstairs getting her food, what do you want for munchies? I'm not going to see the sex-crazed nudists while high."

We both shuddered. "Yeah, um... whatever you can find sounds good. None of that health food crap though," he requested.

"Em, the last time I brought you health food, you ate it all."

"Edward, that's because you gave me a product that had 'booty' in the title. That was perfectly acceptable, and I was fucking high."

It was true. I gave Emmett a full bag of Pirate's Booty, and he consumed the entire thing, along with four grilled cheese sandwiches, a bag of carrots, a loaf of whole wheat bread, and a box of granola bars.

"Okay Lin, I'm going to get you some food. Can I put you down for a bit?" I asked, and Emmett snorted.

"You need to stop talking to your cat. Seriously, if you ever manage to bag a chick, Bro, don't ever let them see that. It's a little fucking pathetic. And a lot disturbing. Anyway, see if you can find pudding."

"Pudding?"

"Yes, fucking pudding. I want some."

Scooping up Linux, still in a curled up ball, I placed her on the pillow next to my head before walking over to my laptop and turning it on. If I was going to smoke, I would need music. That, and I would have to open the window. If memory served, the "midnight passion session" my parents would host tonight could get vocal, so I'd need something to drown out the noise that was sure to bleed into my skull. Opening iTunes, I put on some Sublime before making my way upstairs to forage for food.

Two boxes of Ritz crackers, a two liter bottle of Coke, a baguette, a bag of Reese's, pudding, an apple, four celery stalks, and a jar of peanut butter later, I was finally back downstairs in my lair of debauchery.

_Fuck off. It could have been. Just because it's my parents' basement didn't make the acts committed any less deviant._

Emmett was clearly eager to "get the party started" as I came downstairs into a scene from a Cypress Hill music video. Or Prince. Or downtown Los Angeles before the sun burns off the smog... Whichever made more sense when you walk into a cloud of smoke.

"I got your pudding, Em," I said, my arms full until I dropped all of the items onto a surprisingly clear table in the corner.

"Awesome, Bro. I got the pot. Come hit this."

Taking Bongzilla from his King Kong sized hands, I laughed, wondering when Mothra was going to make an appearance before grabbing the lighter from the desk next to him, and taking a hit. As the smoke filled my lungs, my chest burned, and I wanted nothing more to cough like a geriatric patient who has smoked for sixty years, but I managed to hold it in until I got lightheaded.

I wasn't a fucking pussy.

"Some good shit, right?" he asked, and I nodded, adjusting my glasses and blowing the smoke out through my mouth. "Take another hit, I took three before you walked down here."

I passed the bong back to Emmett after my hits, and already I could feel the effects of the leafy green substance in my system. Everything appeared sharper, even though the outlines of objects blurred together, like someone throwing water on a painting in a museum. Something I had always wanted to do.

The next half-hour passed in the same manner. Emmett and I would take hits from the bong, I'd try not to cough, and my mind would feel heavy from the lack of oxygen. But, I wouldn't complain, as the memories from earlier today slowly dissipated from my conscious mind and gave way to happier thoughts, like Isabella and her ridiculously hot self. I never would have started thinking about her if Emmett hadn't started that particular thought train by asking me to pass the Reese's. I mean, her eyes and hair were brown. Chocolate is brown. It made sense.

To me, anyway.

Emmett's large and in charge - or "in the way" as I put it - ass flopped down on the bed, where Linux was resting peacefully. She must have gotten pretty pissed, since she hissed loudly and jumped into my lap where I was seated in the chair at my computer. Just then, Sublime's "Caress Me Down" came on, and I turned to my computer, my mind hoping that I could catch a glimpse of the one, non-celebrity female I desired to complete said act of caressing me down.

Yeah, I admitted it.

Bringing up Twitter once again, I saw that I had a request from her to follow me, as well as her accepting my request. I fist pumped, earning an odd look from Emmett who was currently plowing through a box of Ritz crackers like Sherman through Georgia.

See? I knew history too.

I refreshed the page only to find that Isabella had updated her status within the last thirty seconds, and I couldn't have been more excited. Not quite sure why I was so excited about being able to communicate with her in 140 characters, I shook off my thoughts of "courting" haikus and read what it said.

**NoSleepTill718: Back from bar hopping with my #1 girl. Frogger - your ass is mine.**

Isabella plays Frogger? I think I died and went to heaven. But, number one girl? Was she a polygamist lesbian? I hoped she wasn't, but then again, of course I would find a respectable girl, perfectly suited to fit my needs and she'd be a lesbian.

What? Just because I figured out the mathematical proportions of her body from her photo online through a reconstruction program I designed for modified porn and learned that her hips would fit in my hands didn't make me weird. It made me a genius. There was a difference. I had also learned that she was at least 5'3, a size four, and I now knew her bra size.

_Maybe that last part made me a little odd. But fuck, you would have done the same thing. _

Instead of being smart and just watching her Twitter feed with the stalker tendencies of a guy outside yoga class with binoculars, I responded. Not even thirty seconds later, she wrote back.

She. Wrote. Back.

Edward fucking Cullen was talking to a girl.

I looked outside to make sure the sky hadn't fallen.

**NoSleepTill718: Wow, clever. You think that one all up by yourself, or did your 10 year old brother help?**

Well, I got a response, but it certainly wasn't what I was hoping for in the least. Of course, Emmett picked right then as the time to stop fucking eating and walk over to the computer.

"Who is that?" he asked, swallowing a mouthful of crackers.

"Isabella."

"The hot chick from your apartment?"

The way he answered had my balls dancing the fucking cha-cha at the thought of her in my apartment. On every surface of my apartment.

"Yeah, the hot chick," I told him, while typing a response. I certainly didn't want Isabella thinking that I was an idiot, so I told her that I was under the influence. At least that way I'd have an excuse for being less than stellar.

Right?

Apparently my mention of leafy green foods had her thinking I was talking about vegetables, and she mentioned something about my fiber intake. Clearly, I was the single most incompetent male on the planet. Emmett agreed, and his laughter boomed in my ear.

**NoSleepTill718: Be carefull froggy, I'm on a rampage tonight. No frog is safe around me. I'll be eating froglegs soon enough.**

Froglegs? So she liked to eat innocent animals? I clutched Linux in my lap tighter for a moment, then started scratching her behind the ears. You know, just to make sure she knew I loved her.

I wanted to make sure that Isabella knew that I was not okay with the act of eating animals, so I told her I was a vegetarian. Her response had Emmett in stitches and me running for the hills. She called me a vag-a-tarian. I didn't know if I could be attracted to someone that couldn't spell. My mind didn't settle for long though, as I got distracted by the feeling of Linux's fur beneath my fingers. I told her as much.

Well, I thought I did. But instead of saying cat, I said pussy. I thought Emmett was going to have a stroke.

"God, Bro, you're an idiot. This is not that complicated. Are you always this fucking odd? No wonder women don't fucking talk to you!" Emmett shouted in between laughs. I was not amused.

Before the situation could get out of hand and she thought I was a complete pervert, I told her that I was talking about my cat.

**NoSleepTill718: Oh, right, that's what I meant. I'm sure she's keeping your lap all warm. I mean, who doesn't love some pussy in your lap?**

Isabella understood. One of my favorite things was to have Linux in my lap while I was at the computer. This talking to girls stuff was easier than I thought.

"You know she's not talking about your cat, right?" Emmett asked, and I looked at him with a dumbfounded expression. "Oh god, you didn't figure it out yet? You've got to be kidding me!"

"No she is, Em. We're talking about Linux. You know that. Stop thinking with your fucking dick, man. That's fucking gross," I answered, disgusted.

**NoSleepTill718: You love pussy huh? Sounds like my kind of guy. I like a man who knows how to stroke a pussy...**

Isabella had a thing for animal lovers! This was going better than I thought possible. We seemed to have a lot in common. Even though we were talking about animals, I couldn't deny that reading these words were undoubtedly having an impact on my dick. I mean, what normal male wouldn't?

I also knew I was never going to smoke pot ever again. It made me stupid and unable to focus on a singular subject. Right now, my mind was thinking about cheese.  
**  
NoSleepTill718: My pussy doesn't meow or purr, maybe I'm stroking her the wrong way? Care to share your technique?**

Isabella. Was. Talking. About. Her. Pussy.

But I knew she meant cat. From what I remember reading about her yesterday during my dive for information, I don't remember anything about a cat. I would have remembered that particular shared interest.

Using the head on my shoulders, as opposed the one attempting to wave hello from my pants, I told her what I did with Linux to get her to purr. It was quite possible that she had a cat, and I didn't know about it. This would be a great knowledge for any cat owner. Emmett was probably wrong in his assessment that we were discussing her actual pussy, and it would be wrong for me to think so.

"Edward, get up."

"What? No! I'm staying right here. I'm comfortable. _We're_ comfortable," I said, gesturing to my lap.

"Don't you want to eat something?" he asked, pointing to the overwhelmingly large amount of food on the table.

Once I stopped thinking about the word "pussy" associated with Isabella, I quickly got out of the chair and walked to grab food. I didn't realize just how fucking hungry I was until I started munching on celery and peanut butter.

Right now, this was better than sex.

Thoroughly distracted by food, it wasn't until I heard the distant sound of moaning in the background did I notice Emmett was typing on the computer.

"Emmett? What're you doing?"

"Nothing, man, just looking for music," he responded quickly, and I couldn't find it in me to argue. Suddenly, I was really fucking tired.

"Okay." Taking my celery and peanut butter, along with my apple back to bed, I got under the covers and continued eating. The sounds of chewing drowned out the moans and groans coming from outside my fucking window, and I munched happily away .

"Hey Edward?"

"Yeah," I said with a full mouth.

"Would you be willing to do the stats for my game next week? I know the guys really appreciated when you did it last time. It's pretty cool."

With a full stomach, a contented smile, and my furball in bed with me, I readily agreed. Then again, if Emmett asked me to go to the moon, I probably would have said yes at this point.

"Yeah, sure, Em. Sounds like a plan." The moaning returned full force and louder than ever. "Turn up the music, will you? I don't want to hear the cries of passion."

"No problem, Edward. And you swear that you'll come to the game?"

"Yeah, Em. I swear."

* * *

**A/N: Dun, dun, DUNNNN! Whew! That was a big one. ::giggle:: That's what she said…**

**A couple of important messages from our sponsors. Erm, not really. But messages all the same.**

**First, my partner in crime, the lovely YogaGal celebrated a birthday. That's huge. Happy birthday to her! ILY.**

**Second! CONTEST! I don't know about you, but I love me some good, chafing, dry hump action. In the for serious. The lovely ladies nerac/carenl and Kassiah are hosting this here contest and I have the honor of being a judge. Whoa! So, I encourage you to enter. Since apparently, I'm a shameless h00r that doesn't mind begging… linkage!**

**http://www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net(slash)u(slash)2291087(slash)FunWithYourClothesOn**

**

* * *

****Next chapter is allllllll Yoga. I have no idea what's coming next, as usual. As Yoga had no clue what was going on with this chapter… I wonder what her reaction was… **

**More importantly, I wonder what YOUR reaction was. Wanna tell me?**

**Until next time! Don't hug a naked parent. It's just weird. **


	6. Sure Shot

**A/N:** "Woah" (to be read a la Joey Lawrence). We are absolutely blown away by the alerts/favs and fuckawesome reviews we've recently gotten. Lara and I keep gushing about how we have the best readers EVER.

A HUGE massive chocolately cake thank you to **araeo** (fantabulous author of _Work In Progress_) and **lexiecullen17** (beta extraordinaire and author of _The Longest Summer_) for donning their long fur coats, swanky felt hats and PIMPING us in their fics. You ladies rock and we love you tons!

Supersmooches as always to Char for beta-ing this bad boy. I love you tons despite the fact that I know you want to clobber me over the head with a comma.

**Disclaimer:** We all know that we don't own these guys. We're just borrowing them from S. Meyers for a little fun of our own.

and lastly...to my partner in crime, Lara...I have no words for what you did last chapter. It was beyond amazing. Like, Nobel Prize winning worthy. I mean, how the hell am I supposed to follow nekkid sexperts? yeah. Well, here goes nothing...

* * *

As I walked to work the next day, I found myself fixated on the fact that Java and his brother knew I lived in New York City. I was getting a little paranoid, until I realized I might have tweeted about a Mix Master Mike gig that I had been to in Brooklyn. I think I might have mentioned the venue.

Maybe.

Possibly.

I shook my head, not wanting to freak myself out anymore than I already was. I knew that doing stuff like Facebook and Twitter left me open for internet snoopery, but I never thought anyone would actually bother with that... especially when it came to me. Despite the mild paranoia I felt surrounding Java, I was still incredibly curious. Who was this high, shy, and geektastically hot guy? I couldn't stop thinking about him all throughout work, and I even jabbed myself with a set of kid not-so-safety scissors mid-daydream.

For all my nerves surrounding the situation, it didn't elude me that I took the long way home from work, walking past the park just to see if anybody was playing basketball. I got a quick flutter in my stomach when I heard the hard beat of a ball being slapped onto the pavement, but my stomach took a nosedive when I noticed that it was just a bunch of ten year olds. I was pretty certain none of them was my hot Twitter pal. My deflated feeling just made me realize that despite the somewhat realistic potential that Java was probably a serial killer, who liked to have his victims rub lotion all over their bodies before he killed them, while dressed in ladies pantyhose, I was kinda into him. Apparently, a night of drunken/high tweeting was my best option for some sort of love connection at the moment.

_Lord help me._

So, when I got home, I did what any rational girl in my situation would do: I twitter-stalked him. His first tweet after our conversation threw me for a loop. I had no clue what the hell to make of it.

**JavaTheHuttt: Cabbage is better than nudity.**

_Huh? _

I wondered if I had made a mistake, that if in my drunken haze, I had read more into our conversation than was there. Maybe that wasn't even his picture. Maybe he was just some loser who lived in his parents' basement. I scrolled through the rest of Java's tweets and stopped when I reached something interesting.

**JavaTheHuttt: Brunettes are the new Casper.**

My stomach fluttered slightly as the crazy voice inside my head said, _He likes brunettes, __**you're**__ a brunette! _I rolled my eyes at myself, knowing how stupid I sounded, even in my own head. He had no clue what I looked like, so he didn't even know I had brown hair. And what the hell did that have to do with Casper anyway? Maybe that wasn't even a compliment and he actually hated brunettes? My head hurt from thinking about it, and thankfully, I was soon distracted when I heard Alice come in the front door.

"Luuuuuuuuuucy, I'm home," she trilled, making me laugh.

"In here, Ricky," I replied.

"Mail call," Alice informed me, dumping a huge package on my lap.

"What's this?" I asked, shaking the package up and down.

Alice shrugged before returning her attention to the catalogue in her hand.

"Beats me. Why don't you open it and find out for yourself?"

I stuck my tongue out at her.

"Brilliant idea, Nancy Drew."

I checked to see who the sender was, but there was no return address. I brought the package up to tear it open and caught a faint whiff of cabbage. Was there such a thing as odoriffic flashbacks? Because if there was, I was having one. What was the deal with cabbage being back in my life again? I thought I escaped that when I ditched Loser Lauren. I focused back on the package and ripped it open before turning it upside down, shaking the contents loose. A handful of envelopes bound together with a rubber band fell out, as well as something else. I looked at the envelopes first and quickly realized it was my missing mail. A mini fist pump later, I was rifling through to see what important mail I had missed. Only after I had realized that half the stuff was junk mail and not, like I had hoped, a stockpile of birthday checks from Nana, did I realize that something else had fallen out as well.

I bent down to grab whatever had fallen to the floor and couldn't help but laugh. There were five packs of different flavored bubble gum taped together with a note attached.

_Dear Isabella Swan,_

__

I am terribly sorry for the mix up regarding your mail and that it has taken me so long to forward it to you. Please accept my apologies along with this offering of gum. I included the gum because you seem to be a fan.

Sincerely,

_-E.C. _

I shook my head as I read the note. The gum was a cute touch, but who signs their name with just initials? I couldn't get too annoyed, however, because I had finally gotten my mail back. I hoped that this would be the end of it and no more stuff would get sent to the old place. With my mail situation seemingly under control, I was now free to focus my attention on more pressing matters. I brought back up my twitter screen just in time to see that Java had recently updated.

**JavaTheHuttt:** **Its incredible how stupid people can really be.**

I burst out laughing and nodded my head in agreement.

"What the heck has you braying like a stupid hyena?" Alice asked as she walked over to me.

I wasn't fast enough, and before I knew it, she had turned the screen towards her, reading all of Java's tweets, including the ones to me. A few clicks later, I could tell she had read mine back to him.

"Isabella Marie Swan. Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

By the tone of Alice's voice, I knew I was in trouble. It was the same tone used relentlessly by Sister Maria when I had attended Holy Cross Elementary School. I recalled one time I had gotten dragged into her office for writing "I heart the Prince of Darkness" on my notebook. She hadn't even given me a chance to explain that I meant Ozzy Osbourne before whipping out her ruler and...

_THWACK!_

I was harshly pulled from my Catholic school daydream by a nasty flick on the ear. I peered up to see a smug-looking Alice poised with her fingers ready to strike again. I held my hands up in defeat.

"Fine, fine. What?" I asked, knowing I wouldn't be getting out of this easily.

"Who is this man you've been flirting with online, and more importantly, why haven't I heard of him before?"

For such a petite person, she was awfully loud and bossy. I groaned, wondering how I could spin this so it didn't seem lame or desperate. After looking at the situation from every possible angle, I just decided to go with the truth.

"Well, I dunno. He was a new Twitter follower. After one night out at the bars with you, I was online, and he and I engaged in some...Twitter banter."

"Banter?" Alice repeated skeptically. "You call asking him for pointers on how to stroke your pussy, banter?!"

I smirked, remembering that part of the conversation.

"Yeah, that was funny."

Alice rolled her eyes at me, before grabbing the laptop and reading something off of it.

"So, are you going to do it?"

"Do what?" I asked, not quite sure what she was referring to.

"Meet up with complete strangers in the middle of Central Park?"

"Um," I shifted around in my seat, avoiding her glare. "Maybe?"

Alice shook her head, then grabbed my hand, pulling me up. I was terrified for a moment, as she dragged me into my room. Was she going to lock me away so I couldn't go?

"What are you doing?" I demanded, remembering that I was indeed a grown up.

"If you're going to go through with this cockamamie thing, you might as well look hot," she explained as she began tearing through my closet.

After a half hour of being told why my wardrobe wasn't even fit for a fourth grader, Alice dragged me down to the Village, where we hunted through five different vintage stores before she found a few things that met her approval. I kept glancing down at my phone, checking the time. There was no way they could have been playing at seven at night..._ Right?_

"Again?" Alice asked, exasperated. "That's the fifth time you've checked your phone."

"I was just checking the time. I don't exactly know when their game is, and I wasn't sure if I might have missed it."

Without saying a word, Alice pulled my phone from my hands and started pressing buttons. A few seconds later, she thrust it back at me.

"Here. Now you have Twitter on your phone. You can stalk your geek-nerd even while out and about."

I didn't even have it in me to chastise her about downloading programs on my phone without my permission, and instead I immediately went to check Java's twitterfeed.

**JavaTheHuttt:** **87.42% of the time I love statistics.**

I couldn't help but giggle, and hugged my phone to my chest when Alice tried to pull it away to see what he had written. I knew she would just make fun of me. I let her know that there was no mention of a basketball game yet, though, and she went back to inspecting a pair of boots. We finished up at the store and grabbed some falafel on the way home for dinner. Once back at the apartment, I hung up my new clothes in the closet and wondered when I would get the chance to wear them.

***** **

"Bella Swan, you dirty whore!"

I blinked my eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them. Before I was able to even open them, I felt my bed sag with the weight of somebody sitting down next to me.

"Come on, you big slut, wake up!"

I groaned, finally realizing it was Rosalie. I should have known. I so did not want to deal with her today.

"Get the fuck off my bed."

"Aw, come on. Is that anyway to speak to the lady who brought you coffee and danish?"

My eyes opened, and I shot up at the mention of danish. Damn her for knowing my weakness.

"Now that you're up, go grab a shower. You stink! Apparently, we have a basketball game to catch," she said smugly.

I eyed her warily, wondering what she meant.

"Alice told me," she said, by way of explanation.

I fell back onto my pillow, hating that my best friends never gave me any privacy.

"Stop it, Swan. I actually think this is good. It's not like your lady bits are getting any younger. Make sure you dust for cobwebs before we head out."

I threw my pillow at Rosalie before covering myself up with my covers. Like I really needed a reminder that my vag's closest friend required batteries to run. My best friends were under the impression that this was all my fault, however, since I refused to "put myself out there." Both Alice and Rosalie were big into the dating scene, whereas I would rather crawl into a hole and die then lose an hour of my life with some dillweed, who only wanted to talk about his job or car or heaven forbid, his mother. They claimed they always got a free meal out of it, and I claimed they got way more bad stories and potential STDs than anything else. The fact that I was going to go meet Java was a step in the right direction in their minds, though, so they seemed to be all for it. Alice had joined me in Twitter stalking Java, so she must have read about the game and alerted her partner in crime.

The sweet, cheesy scent of pastry brought me out of my thoughts, only to see Rose waving a danish in front of me.

"Go shower, Stinkerella!" she demanded.

I huffed and grabbed the danish from her hands before stalking off to the shower. I made a point of grabbing my cell phone, though, to see what the deal was for myself. I quickly scrolled to the Twitter app and then clicked to see what Java had written.

**JavaTheHuttt:** **Heading to Central Park to chaperone Captain Doofus.**

"Yes!" I fistpumped the air, bit of danish sprinkling down upon me.

I promptly shoved the danish into my mouth and started the shower, giving myself a quick sniff in the process.

_Ew._

Rosalie was right. I smelled like Bret Michaels after he toured his bus of skanky love. I hopped right into the hot water, setting the record for speediest shower ever. I was eager to make it to the park before Java and his brother were finished. After drying myself off and downing another danish and the rest of my coffee, I grabbed the outfit Alice had helped me buy the other night. I looked at myself in the mirror, happy with the results.

"Not bad, Swan," chirped Rosalie, giving me her own form of approval.

Alice on the other hand was a bit more enthusiastic.

"Bella! You look fabulous! You actually look like a girl, for goodness sake. Your Twitter man is going to go gaga over you," she proclaimed with a huge smile.

I shrugged, not really used to anyone fawning over me this way. Instead, I grabbed my jacket and purse, making sure I had my phone, before calling to my girls.

"Come on, bitches. Let's go stalk my Twitter nerd."

We were lucky that it was a nice day out, and if my luck lasted, I might be treated to a game of shirts against skins. Maybe Java was shirtless this very minute, running around after the ball, his chest glistening with sweat as his breathing increased with each move of his body. His large hand sin command of the ball...

_Ouch._

"What the hell, Rose?"

I glared at the smirking blonde to my right who had just pinched my upper arm.

"What the fuck was that for?"

"You were lost in la la land, Swan. Besides, we're here."

I stopped in my tracks, noticing that we were right down the pathway from the basketball courts. I strained to see if anybody was visible from where we were, but they all just looked like a bunch of blurry dots to me. I started to walk quickly towards the courts, before being pulled back by an abnormally strong Alice.

"What the hell?" I asked for the second time in a minute.

"Bella, Bella, Bella," clucked Alice. "What are you doing?"

"I'm...um...going to go over to their game, and..." I trailed off, realizing I didn't have a plan.

"Exactly," Alice said triumphantly. "We need to figure out what you're going to do. He doesn't know what you look like, right?"

I nodded. I had seen Java's picture, but I had never sent him one of me, so I was pretty sure he had no clue what I looked like. It meant I had the upper hand and could observe him for a bit without being spotted. I explained this to the girls, and they liked the idea of doing some recon work before deciding on a solid plan. Maybe Java was just a hottie in his picture but a total fugly loser in real life. A little covert peeping could help clear that up.

We made our way to the courts and started walking leisurely past each one. When we got to the third one, I spotted him. I knew it was him immediately. The shock of crazy-colored hair sticking out all over the place was a dead giveaway. The fact that he was sitting against a tree, laptop in hand, while a group of sweaty, grunting guys played in front of him was also a clue. I gripped Alice's arm tightly, and she stopped, allowing me to ogle him some more.

"Is that him?" Rose asked, her voice way too loud. She would make a totally crappy ninja.

"Yes," I hissed and slapped her.

She raised her sunglasses off her face and appraised my Java. I really wished I knew his name.

"Hm...he's not bad."

I rolled my eyes and pulled them away from the chain link fence so that we could talk without being overheard.

"So, now what?" I asked, panicked.

I knew I'd eventually have to talk to him, but I had no clue what to say.

"Just go up to him and say hi," Rose suggested with a shrug. "You can remind him you're his twitter ho."

"Thanks, Rose. Real classy."

"Come on," said Alice, dragging me towards the game.

She pulled me towards the bleachers, and we sat on the front row, only a few yards from Java. I kept sneaking glances at him, and it seemed like he was doing the same to me. I couldn't really tell though, since he was also watching the game. I frowned, trying to figure out what to do next. I tried to watch the game for a bit while I thought of something clever to do. The match on the court looked heated and intense, with elbows flying and the ball moving quickly. It was hard to concentrate on the game, though, since I kept looking at the cute guy sitting against the tree.

"Alice," I whispered, hoping she'd help me out and provide me with some amazing opening line.

Instead, she held her finger up, motioning for me to give her a second while she typed away with her other hand on her phone. I turned to Rose, figuring her brand of snark was better than nothing.

"Rose," I hissed. "Help me out here!"

Rose was no use either, it seemed. She was sitting there, slack-jawed, staring at some behemoth out on the court. The man that currently had her attention was tall, muscular and sort of hot... if you liked the pretty-boy-jock-type. His black tank top left little to the imagination, especially since it was currently soaked through with sweat. I could only imagine the puddle of drool we'd be sitting in if this guy had been on the "skins" side. I followed Rose's gaze, where it was zeroed in on the guy's crotch. I couldn't really blame her. Despite wearing some loose sweatpants, each movement he made accentuated his, um...package. It was more than just a simple package. I doubted a UPS man could have handled it. It was more like an anaconda, begging to break free. He moved left, and his not-so-little friend would move left, whipping in the breeze. Then he veered right and it flung in the other direction. He pivoted, and it swayed back and forth, like the heavy, weighted pendulum of a grandfather clock.  
_  
Back and forth._

_Back and forth.  
_  
I was quickly hypnotized by the movement, and my attention veered from both my Twitter boy and the game. I really should have been paying attention to the game.

"Isabella!"

Who the heck was calling my name? Was _**he**_ calling my name? How did he know my name?

I whipped my head in the direction of the voice, only to be met with a large orange ball speeding at me. Before I could process what was happening, the ball made direct contact with my head, and I fell to the ground, vaguely hearing voices shouting my name as everything faded to black...

* * *

**A/N:** bwahaha...not the kind of fade to black SM is known for. But I'm sure we'll get there soon enough - or not, since Hackerward is totally inept when it comes to the ladies. And Bella? Not much of a lady, let's be honest.

Now...if you crazy critters enjoy this fic, you might enjoy the ones Lara and I each write separately. Check out this profile - we link ourselves in our favorites, b/c we're h00rs like that. :D


	7. Branch to Fishkill

A/N: Well hello again! I know that Yoga said this in the last chapter, but I wanted to take the time to thank both **lexiecullen17** and **araeo** for their incredible support through recs within their fics. I read them both religiously, and that you, as a reader, trusted their judgment and came over here... is _beyond_ words.

Seriously, the love through alerts, reviews, hell even lurkers, is UNREAL. Thank you. So, so much. Really, I'm beyond words with this. Did I say that already? Who gives a crap, it's true.

To **lexiecullen17**, her beta mastery knows no bounds. I gave her this chapter, and I got it back from her within not only the same night, but barely few hours. That, right there, is cause for boob gropes, and copious amounts of alcohol.

Things are a _LITTLE_ different this time around. I hope you enjoy it.

**Now, I own a lot of shit, mainly biology textbooks and far too many cat treats, but I can say without a doubt, that I really don't own Twilight. The story would have been much different. JS. **

Without further ado,_ I give you, Hackerward! _

* * *

"Branch to Fishkill"

The guy in CVS was staring at me like I must have been the single most idiotic person on the fucking planet. Maybe it was because I had been standing in the fucking gum section for fifty-seven minutes.

I screamed at "Brock," or "Trey," or "Guy," or motherfucking "Soybean…" or whatever the fuck this pimply, new-age emo boy in girl pants' name was - _in my mind_ - telling him to shove that black nail polish bottle straight up his ass and to stop looking at me. Apparently, Captain "My Girlfriend Left Me So I Cry With My Guitar," didn't grasp the enormity that was purchasing my particular items for a certain brunette.

_Seriously Mr. I Bleed to See Color Since My Soul is Black, you don't get it. This is going to I-s-a-b-e-l-l-a._

Since I was in the same predicament as Dr. Evil, and I couldn't have sharks with laser beams attached to their heads at my disposalto kill off my mortal fucking enemy at the counter, I turned back to the merchandise on the shelf with renewed interest.

_Okay, so I already had grape…_

There were just so many fucking choices. Bubble bum, chewing gum, teeth-whitening gum, gum with crystals, gum with shit in the middle for a burst of fucking flavor, gum in the shape of band-aids...

_No band-aids, you don't want her to think that you are going to injure her, fucking stupid ass. Bad omen sending, motherfucker. _

The grape was safe. She had left me that as an adhesive collection of her DNA and a note written in mascara. I mean, if she had left me a note written in women's beauty products, she must not care about them, right? So, sending her the gum made sense. It did.

My logic was perfect.

As of right now, there were five different companies that made grape bubble gum. And, after much poking and prodding, I'd discovered that only three of the five companies produced a product of equal size to the piece of gum that was left on my door. By Isabella. The insanely hot brunette.

_No, I didn't save it, you assholes. I have a fucking photographic memory. I'm not pulling some creepy "Hey Arnold!" or "Silence of the Lambs" crap and making a fucking shrine out of her various "pieces" and possessions. I'm fucking civilized. _

Two hundred, twenty-seven different types of gum were all screaming in their packages for me to pick them, and each one had their own shittastic campaign tactics, worse than Sarah fucking Palin and her walking tombstone of a running mate.

_Yes, I'm a fucking democrat. Get over it. I wonder if Isabella is a Democrat… I mean, could I date a Republican? She already can't spell "vegetarian…"_

Regardless of her spelling errors, Isabella was an animal lover with a rockin' fucking bod, so I didn't give a shit about what side of the arrow she fell on... Just as long as she fell on mine.

_Stop thinking about sex, dumbass! Just buy the fucking gum before the fucking post office closes. _

Thirty-eight minutes of further debate, three algorithms, and four statistical analyses of the gum selection later, I'd finally settled on five different choices to send to Isabella with my shitty cop-out of a note along with her mail.

"Find everything okay?" the little emo boygirl asked once I made it to the counter.

"Yeah, fine," I answered, praying that this asshole didn't want to make fucking conversation. I was on a fucking mission.

Operation "Return Hottie Mail Thus Winning Affection and Entrance to Pants" was in full effect.

"You were over there for a long time. Did you need help or anything?"

"Clearly not, since I'm buying this now. I'm in kind of a rush, though…"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. Dude, I just have one question. Oh, and that'll be $10.58."

"What's your question?" I asked angrily, while fishing the money out of my wallet and handing it over.

"How do you get your hair like that?"

I stared, probably resembling one of those mounted singing fish that assholes in trailer parks hang on their walls as flashy décor. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, man. I've been tryin' to rock that hairstyle forever. It's so in right now. How do you do it?" he asked, handing me back my change.

"Uh, no clue."

Grabbing the bag off the counter, I hastily retreated to the exit.

_Store number one on my "I can never return here again" list in my new neighborhood. Fucking wonderful. _

-- ~ --

Linux and I had been in the apartment for two days, and while the cabbage smell was better than it was when I first opened the door to this place, there was still the underlying scent of old vegetables permeating the apartment. Then again, the smell was significantly more tolerable than the constant vision of my mother's naked breasts and my father's sack, so living here was already five hundred levels of fucking better than living at home. No, not at home. Better than living at my parent's house. This was home now.

And Linux, well, she was happy as shit. Since I couldn't bear the thought of a fucking roommate, the second bedroom was a space for my computers and all her various cat contraptions. I didn't have a fucking girlfriend, but I did have my girl, and I spoiled her every fucking chance I got.

A cat castle, a fucking carpeted jungle gym, her litter box that was fancier than some of the cardboard homes I'd see people living in on the street, and all of her toys blanketed the majority of space within the room. I'd even gone as far as to tie a long string and a ball of aluminum foil to the ceiling fan so she would be entertained while I was working. Or watching porn. Both occurred at these computers.

Also, when your cat watches you jack off, you tend to get a little shy. Ever since she had mistakenly taken my up/down motions as a cue to come closer, and then my dick had become an accidental scratching post, I'd made sure that she was either not in the room or completely enthralled in another activity.

We hadn't had an incident since, and my dick made a full recovery.

_Chicks dig faint scars too, right? _

Sitting down in my computer chair, I opened up Twitter, as it had been a few days since my ass tweeted while high, and that was the dumbest thing I could have done. Part of me was too afraid to check Isabella's account to see if she might have possibly gotten the package with her mail. Or if she would even mention it. I knew I could have fucking checked the tracking numbers, so I did that instead. That made more sense. There was no guarantee that she would even write about her mail. Or the note. Or the gum. Checking for my balls with a quick grab, and since they were still there, I "manned" up and updated, before checking to see if Isabella had written anything else.

_I am man… hear me… squeak?! _

I nearly jumped out of my seat when I looked at her profile to find a tweet I hadn't seen before. Actually, I'd discovered a multitude of tweets to my account And I. Hadn't. Written. Them.

There were responses.

With a picture of me.

And if I read correctly, she thought I was attractive. And had used the words "stroke" and "pussy" within the same sentence.

_That's… NOT about a cat. _

My dick loved this new development, and I shifted in my chair to make things more comfortable. Jeans and erections do not play well together in the same sandbox.

And Emmett admitted I had no fucking clue what I was doing with women? With a dick deflating faster than a tire with a nail, my phone was in my hand, ringing Emmett's ridiculous ringback tone before I could even register what I had done.

"What up, bro? We still on this week for the game? You _need_ to come."

"Oh yeah, asshole? I need to come to the game? Is that because you sold my ass out faster than a trashy mag and the latest Senator affair scandal? What the fuck, Emmett? You couldn't leave shit alone, could you? What the fuck were you thinking? Do you realize what you've done?" I was screaming, and Linux was hissing, but I couldn't find it in me to care. He'd just ruined any chance I'd had with Isabella. While embarrassing me. I could have killed him.

"Slow down, Edward. Seriously. Slow the fuck down. I was helping you out! We both know that you would have cyber-stalked her ass forever and wouldn't have done shit about it! I mean, you could have brought her mail over, but you sent it like a dumbass! And did you give her your name? Does she know? You've royally fucked shit up, and I'm trying to get you out of the mess you're in! You need to fucking come clean about how you know her before you can even pretend to date the girl. And, I found out that she's interested in you, fuck you very much. Would you have known that otherwise? The answer to that is 'no,' Edward. So, fuck you for calling like an angry ass when you should be fucking thanking me for getting you an in."

"Emmett, you know that I can't do this. I'm just not…" I trailed off, embarrassed and too afraid to admit my failures. I might have graduated as the valedictorian at MIT, but when it came to social situations, I was the most clueless person on the planet.

"Listen, bro. I'm going to help you out, but you need to come to the game and at least try and talk to her. And hear me now, little brother, if you don't tell her, know this. I. Will. Tell. Her. Everything. And I mean everything. Finding her picture, looking at her transcripts, stalking her Twitter and address. I'll fucking tell her if you don't. So, if you know what's good for you, you'll come. If you want a chance, you'll be there. Two days, brother. Two days."

My heart stopped in my chest. I was terrified. If he told her everything, she could not only report me to the Police, but I would get in serious trouble. Maybe she would understand. From what I'd learned about Isabella, and there wasn't much I didn't know, she seemed like a wonderful girl. And for the first time, I regretted looking into someone's background without their knowledge.

"Emmett," I croaked, holding back emotion, since guys weren't supposed to deal with that shit, and I felt like a fucking pansy. My eyes welled up with frustrated moisture. With a deep breath, I continued, "Tell me how to make this right. I'm so lost here, and I need your help."

"Edward?" His voice was the softest I'd ever heard it.

"Yeah?"

"I've been waiting twenty-five years for you to say that."

"Well, I've got my big girl panties on, so teach me the ways of the world, oh wise one."

"See, what you need to do is…"

Emmett and I spoke for hours, and I could finally admit that I was grateful for my parents' humping tendencies when they created him in the back of the limo on the way to the airport for their honeymoon.

During our conversation, a ray of light came in a few words from Isabella's Twitter account. Whether I thought the reaction was good or not, Emmett assured me that the words posted were positive.

She was thinking about me.

**NoSleepTill718: I know there's a warning about taking candy from a stranger. But what about gum?**

Not only was Isabella gorgeous, and smart… She. Was. Thinking. About. Me.

And she seemed to be wary of taking candy from a stranger. With those few words, she stuck another invisible piece of bubble gum to the side of my heart.

I reached down to check for my dick once more before heading into the shower.

_Yep, still there._

-- ~ --

I hated that Emmett had my fucking number, and sure enough, like the social pariah I was, I found myself under a damn tree with my laptop while the guys were playing basketball. As the steroid-team expressed their testosterone through sweat and hand-eye coordination, I did as well… just through different means…

Camping might have been illegal in Central Park, but my tent was pitched.

Taking to stalking Isabella's Twitter feed while I was supposed to be watching the game, and "subtly looking for her," wasn't going too well. My gaze darted to every entrance of the courts on a constant loop; I must have looked like a fucking owl with how wide my eyes were.

Then again, you would have done the same damn thing. She had been everywhere for the past few days. Anytime I left the safety of my damn apartment, I could swear that any brunette was actually Isabella. And me, having the stealth capabilities of Mt. Everest being planted in the Mojave desert, would run in the other direction.

Turning back to the computer, I reread the last two tweets she made with a smile on my face.

**NoSleepTill718: Sometimes I feel like a Barbie Doll when Alice takes me shopping. Although I wouldn't topple over from my boob size.**

Boobs and mathematical references. There was no way Isabella could have gotten any better. Until, of course, I read the next tweet in the timeline.

**NoSleepTill718: Warning: eating an entire box of Thin Mints can cause the sugar shakes.**

Girl Scout cookies were my weakness. One, I could never turn away people asking for something, since I had no backbone as Emmett pointed out. That, and when I was at my parents' house, there was no way I was going to subject young girls to the sexscapades happening on the property. I would quickly order far more Thin Mints than any human should ever consume, and then send them on their way.

Two, Girl Scouts wore uniforms. If I thought about uniforms, I thought about the little catholic school girl outfits. That would, without a doubt, lead me to thinking of Isabella in a tight, plaid, sock to the knees, skirt looking…

_Fuck. Now I'm not only hard, but I'm fucking panting in public. I'm such a fucking weirdo. _

I looked at the computer's clock, realizing that Emmett and I had gotten to the park almost an hour ago, and I was convinced that she wasn't coming. He told me not to get my hopes up because there was a chance that she wouldn't show. My dick, much like my soul, shriveled up and hid in shame and rejection.

The game paused for a moment, and Emmett ran over to me, a somber expression on his face. "Hey, Edward. You okay?" He sounded surprisingly concerned.

"Yeah," I replied, running my fingers along the top of my computer. "No big deal, right? I mean, I shouldn't be surprised. Or shocked. I'm not the kind of person that someone would go out of their way to meet, you know?"

"Edward," Emmett started, squatting a little too close for my liking. "It's not the end of the world. Maybe it wasn't meant to happen this way. We'll find a way to make this work, alright? Just hang in there.

"Thanks, Emmett. I'm fine. Go back to the game." He looked like he was about to speak, and I cut him off. "Your balls are far too close to me right now. Incest is illegal. Go away."

"You're a dick."

I watched as he ran back to the court, spoke to the guys for a moment, and they all turned to look at me. Great. So, he had told them all about Isabella. I felt even more like a social outcast than usual.

Figuring that I could at least attempt to get some work done, I turned back to my computer and started working on an algorithm for my newest client. It didn't take long for me to get lost in a sea of numbers and keystrokes.

"Is that him?" a girly voice said, and my ears perked up.

"That's what I'm talkin' about!" Emmett's voice called out, and I looked up to watch the happenings on the court, doing my best not to turn my head in the direction of the girly voice. I heard muffled whispers, and I couldn't fight the urge to look any longer.

And there she was.

She was, hands down, the single most exquisite creature I'd ever seen.

They say that pictures don't usually do people justice, and I couldn't have agreed more. My dick was on board with the thought as well, since he perked the fuck up to say hello. I groaned in pain as my hard-on turned into a Rock 'Em, Sock 'Em robot within my fucking pants. Shifting slightly, I tried to ease the pressure from the involuntary twitching like someone with Tourette's, but nothing worked. I couldn't take my eyes off her. But, I remembered what Emmett said the other day on the phone. "Don't look at her too much. Let her look at you. Let her appraise the goods, man. Appraise the goods. You know, like, when you buy a car or some shit. Gotta look at it from the outside before you take it for a test drive. You figure out whether it'll look good on you."

Would I look good on Isabella? The monster in my fucking pants thought so. The head on my shoulders agreed.

A lot.

I remained "aloof" and let Isabella stare, or I assumed she was staring, since the hairs on the back of my neck stood up like I had just pissed myself on stage and everyone was looking. Instead of glancing at her, I turned my eyes to the court and watched the game for about point four seconds before looking at my computer screen. That was easier. Not even the numbers could keep me occupied, though, so I opened a blank word document and started typing.

**Don't stare at Isabella. **

**Don't stare at Isabella.**

**Don't stare at Isabella. **

**Don't stare at Isa**

My eyes looked up at the sound of giggling from her direction. There were three girls, but my eyes only saw one. She wasn't looking at me, thank fucking God, and I got to stare at her without consequence. Her hair was shiny, pretty, much like the rest of her. She had a face that could stop traffic, and my eyes zeroed in on her lips.

I turned back to the computer before she could catch me. Again, I started typing.

**Isabella's lips are perfect. They're ideal for kissing, I bet. Right? **

**I want to kiss Isabella. **

**I want to feel her lips on mine.**

**They would look perfect around my dick.**

**Apparently, I'm a sick pervert that types his desires.**

**I want**

**I want**

**I want my fucking dick to stop aching. **

Throwing my head back with a slight groan, I thought about everything possible to will away the giant fucking erection I was sporting in public.

A public park.

A park with children.

_Fuck, I'm going to hell. _

Charges for pedophilia had my dick running for cover, and I smiled. I'd won the fight against hormones and evil.

Again, I could feel eyes on me and could hear laughter carry over to my place against the tree.

I was already a fucking cyber-stalker, as Emmett so eloquently pointed out, so I decided it was better to be creepy in person. That made sense. Plus, she had no idea I knew it was her. So, any normal male that feels eyes boring holes in their God damn forehead would look, right?

_I. Am. Normal._

And I looked again.

Her eyes locked with mine. My breath stopped. My heart pounded. My dick woke up… again.

Could she see my dick from over there? I mean, it had to be blatantly obvious, like the Great Wall of China from outer space. With a whimper, I silently fumed over my lack of self-love this morning. Linux was being needy, and I couldn't get a moment alone.

It was really sad that I couldn't jack off because my cat demanded attention. I was owned by pussy in more ways than one.

_Okay, time to cure the erection problem. And cue the blue balls. _

I opened my internet browser, and brought up rotten(dot)com. But, sadly, not even dead bodies or other sick shit worked. I knew that it was probably because I was half staring at the screen, and half playing eye-tag with Isabella. When she turned her attention back to the game I closed my eyes, and thought of that list that every male has in his arsenal to lose a boner.

Dead kittens. Grandma Cullen's boobs. Mom's boobs. Dad naked. Botfly larvae. Stepping on a slug, barefoot at night. That hairless monkey's wrinkly sack at the Zoo in London. Marshmellows. Eating cheese with maggots. Emmett's naked dancing when he had the brief whim to become a male stripper.

_And, I'm okay again_.

I watched the game a bit more, further lessening my overwhelming inability to stay soft for longer than a minute, and staring at a bunch of dudes helped. When I looked back at Isabella, I laughed. I couldn't help it. It was like dogs watching a tennis match or ping-pong tournament, as her and all of her girlfriends' heads were moving back and forth. The blonde was looked like she was drooling, Isabella looked like a zombie from some shittastic horror flick, and the little one just looked mildly interested. I looked to see what they were staring at, but shit just started moving in slow motion, like a bad action sequence.

Someone hit the ball out of Emmett's hands.

The ball flew toward the girls.

And the last thing before the crash impact was Emmett screaming Isabella's name in warning. For some reason, she stopped watching the game and had been looking in my direction.

And her gaze had just shifted as she was smacked with the ball.

In the face.

_And no, you assholes, I didn't get hard thinking about the words balls and face. Give me a little fucking credit. _

Emmett ran over to me, just as I had tossed my laptop to the sid, and started getting to my feet. I had no concern other than whether or not Isabella was okay.

"Sit down, Edward."

"Emmett, I need to see her. She could be really hurt!"

"Listen, one of the guys already called 911, so just stay put. This is not how you want this to happen."

I glared at him. "Not how I wanted this to happen? This is your fault! You hit her with your ball!"

Emmett snorted. "I hit her with my ball, Edward? Really? That's too easy."

"Douchewad, stop thinking with your dick! She could really be hurt!" I was frantic.

"Fine, but I'm coming with you."

As I ran over to Isabella's still body, I was afraid that Emmett's wandering ball killed her. And before I could get too upset, I knew what I had to do. Groaning, I pulled my phone from my pocket and made the last phone call I wanted to make.

"Edward?"

"Hey, Dad. I need your professional opinion."

"Don't forget clitoral stimulation, son. It's vital for the inexperienced lover."

Emmett was talking to Isabella's friends, and I was ready to throw myself off a cliff. I could hear sirens in the distance.

"No, Dad! Not that opinion. Your job title before professional penis. Isabel- I mean, a friend just got knocked out by a basketball. What should I do?"

"Well, first you need to find a pulse, does she have one?"

"Are you kidding me? You actually want me to touch her?"

"Over here!" Emmett yelled, and I looked toward the street, the ambulance was parked then I nearly celebrated.

"Nevermind Dad, the paramedics got here. Bye." I hung up before he could tell me about places in which to _stimulate_ her into awareness.

"Hey everyone, so what happened?" a deep voice asked, and when I turned, I was eye level with someone's collarbone.

This was the biggest motherfucker I'd ever seen.

"Jake? What the hell are you doing here?" asked the short little thing hovering over Isabella.

_They knew this jolly… brownish…giant? _

"Hey Alice, Rose, what's going on? Where's my girl? Is she with you?"

"Uh, yeah, dumbass. She's your patient," the girl I now knew as Rose, answered.

_His girl? HIS GIRL!? I THOUGHT ISABELLA WAS SINGLE! _

"Emmett?" I asked quietly.

"Yeah, what's up bro?"

"I'm going to go," I pointed to the tree where my laptop sat "sit over there. Just, tell me if she's okay."

My tail cowered between my legs. I felt pathetic. Rejected.

"You sure?" he asked.

I simply nodded and walked away.

-- ~ --

"Edward!" Emmett called out. I didn't even look up from the computer screen where I was currently typing words that would have made that Soybean kid at CVS look like Mary fucking Sunshine. "Dude, she's not dating him. That's her ex, man. She is single. The girls told me. And, I've got other news."

His shit-eating grin was enough to make me a little happy, but nothing compared to the revelation that Isabella was still single. She hadn't rejected me without even using words.

That would have been worse than that Sex and the City episode where Carrie gets broken up with on a post-it note…

_Fuck. You. Seriously. My mother used to make me watch it. Plus, I only saw that episode. Really. _

"What news, Emmett?" I asked, looking up at him while using my hand to block out the sun behind him, making him resemble the fucking baby in the sun on the fucking Teletubbies.

_I used to watch it when I was high. Fuck you again. _

"Well, she's been mumbling about her Java and asking for you. Well, not you specifically, but the hot blonde girl pointed you out when Jake asked who that was. They just put her in the ambulance. So, go talk to her!"

I didn't even answer him as I picked up my computer and sprinted towards Isabella. When I looked inside the open doors of the white truck parked at the curb, I found her, gorgeous as ever, bruised and swollen, but still beautiful. She was moaning, and I tried not to think about it.

_What I wouldn't give for her to make that sound, NOT because she was hit by a ball. Especially if I was the reason behind it…_

Climbing in, I set my laptop on the bench seat and sat down next to it. She groaned once more and shifted toward the edge of the stretcher, and my hands reached out to catch her if she should fall. She did.

And I caught her.

And my arms felt like Tim must have felt when he was still holding the fucking fence in Jurassic Park when the power turned back on.

Electrocuted.

She woke up slightly, opening her eyes; they were brown. But not like boring brown, like gold, and other fucking pretty colors. I was still a fucking man. And I liked them. Enough fucking said.

"Dr. McDreamy?" Isabella's voice was rough, but still, the most gorgeous sound I'd ever heard. Not high-pitched, but not too low. Not squeaky or fake. Just pure, auditory bliss.

"Umm, well, no. I'm not…that…I'm not a…" I trailed off, running a hand through my hair, and looking anywhere but at Isabella.

"House?"

Now, I was a sarcastic crippled fucking doctor? How hard did the ball hit her? "Do you see a cane anywhere? I mean, I can walk. Well, just... fuck. WAIT! Not fuck, I meant, damnit. Are you okay?" I was worried. It was quite possible that she was hallucinating, and while that would have been a terrible thing to suffer, I wasn't opposed to the possibility that she wouldn't have seen or recognized Jake.

"Am I...okay? I...I'm not sure. My head really hurts." My heart ached and the pit enlarged in my stomach like that creepy fucking scene from James and the Giant Peach. I wondered if I'd spontaneously turn into a giant fucking fruit.

Rather than worry, like fucking Grandma Cullen and her fear of everything like how you'd get electrocuted if you pressed the fucking elevator button, I looked at her to see if anything was wrong that I could tell. I was no doctor, regardless of how many times she'd call me one, and I couldn't see any noticeable damage other than a big red spot, swollen, in the middle of her forehead. And even then, she was still the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. In person.

Shaking my head to focus on injuries instead of the fact that Isabella was here, next to me, talking to me, and being within a few feet of my socially broken ass, I told her what I thought about her injuries… Since my opinion mattered for some reason. "You got hit with a basketball. It shouldn't feel good. Not unless you're into that kind of thing. I'm not saying that you are, just... Fuck. Nevermind."

_And the foot in mouth award goes to…_

"No…. I'm pretty sure I'm not into people pelting me with basketballs for fun sexytimes. Where am I anyway?" Isabella sat up, and her body waved like a third base coach telling me to run home. Except this wasn't a dance of seduction, this was probably dizziness, and I was doing no good by watching her sway in the non-existent breeze of the ambulance. I was a fucking idiot.

Near twitching with the current beneath my hands, I helped her lay back on the stretcher. These things had fucking seatbelts for a reason, but in order for me to reach for one, I'd have to maneuver myself over her luscious boobs. Now, I wasn't opposed to copping a feel of Isabella's sweater pillows, but doing so while she was barely conscious wasn't something I'd get off on. Distractedly, I said, "We should lay down. I mean, you! You should lay down."

_Did I seriously just say I wanted to lay down with her? The look on her face confirmed that I must have said just that. Shit. _

"Um...you can lay down, too. You know, with me. I mean, just to make sure I don't roll over or pass out again. Strictly for medical reasons."

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. She wanted me to lay down with her. On the stretcher. Though, she did mention it was for her safety, I couldn't deny that it might have been a good idea because she could have fallen off, and she didn't need any more injuries today. I needed to be responsible, and since her jackass of an ex-boyfriend couldn't have bothered to strap her into the fucking stretcher, it would be against my morals not to help.

_Keep telling yourself that. Maybe, you and your dick will actually believe it someday. _

Sure enough, hearing the words come from Isabella's mouth, the monster in my pants made its fourth appearance of the day. Right as I was about to lay my body down next to hers, careful to shield my traitorous dick from her soft, good-smelling, and fuckawesome body- _not helping - _a loud voice came from the open door of the ambulance.

Jake the Douchebag bellowed, "Yeah, I'm just going to check and see if she's awake."

I froze. There I was. Isabella looking at me, I was looking at Jake, and Jake… was looking directly at the tent in my pants.

_Fuck my life. _

_

* * *

_

**A/N: **

**IMPORTANT NOTE:** So, since Yoga and I don't plan jack shit for these chapters, I thought I'd address how things like Twitter, and conversations between our lovely characters have happened, and will proceed in the future. Yoga tells me she needs tweets from Hackerward. I email her a bunch of tweets (the ones you see in the previous chapter) and that's it. We don't talk about meaning. This conversation you just read? It happened over gchat, and literally, it went like this. I typed the line of dialogue, and she typed the response. If BELLA makes a move with her body, i.e., sitting up, she says, "words, words, words," (sits up). Again, this is it.

I wanted to make sure you all knew. We practically roleplay with our characters over gchat. It's kinda hot, honestly. Well, not really hot. More like, I live in an awkward place, and Yoga types stuff.

Yoga's up next, and I can't wait.

THANKS AGAIN TO EVERYONE FOR THEIR SUPPORT! I HOPE YOU'RE HAVING AS MUCH FUN AS WE ARE!

**::end epically long a/n::**


	8. Time To Get Ill

**A/N:** JAKE!?! Yeah, so, I totally didn't see that coming. Thanks Lara. *snort* That dude is such a cockblocker, isn't he? sheesh.

Oh, and just to remind you - whenever you see something from Hackerward - (Twitter stuff, dialogue, etc...) that's ALL Lara. And anytime you see that same stuff but with Bella (even in a Lara chapter) that's all me, Yoga. We'd explain how we manage that, but it woudl involve too many pie charts and powerpoint presentations and wouldn't you just rather read the chapter? ;)

Big ups to my masta-beta, **LexieCullen17**. I can't even begin to tell you how much I love her. There's like puffy hearts and shiz involved.

Thanks again to all of you absolutely wonderful, fabulous people who are reading along. Lara and I sit and talk via gchat while we read your reviews. And I kid you not when I say it goes something like this:

**Yoga:** OMG did you see that review?

**Lara:** I LOVE OUR READERS!

**Yoga:** I know, I kinda want to marry them.

**Lara:** Dude, I'm not sure that's actually legal.

**Yoga:** Oh, yeah, but it would be nice, b/c they're totally awesome.

**Lara:** Yeah.

**Yoga:** Yeah.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. If I did, I'd probably have a plot...

* * *

I looked back and forth between the two men crammed into the ambulance along with me, wondering if what I was seeing was actually happening, or if I was hallucinating from my apparent head injury. I blinked my eyes a few times, hoping that this was really just a side effect of being pelted in the head by a ball. I was almost hoping that the next time I opened my eyes, I'd be staring at Charlie and he'd whisk me off to Candy Mountain. Anything would be better than this. Unfortunately, after a good fourteen blinks, I was still staring at the same two men, no unicorn in sight.

Now that it was sinking in, I was starting to get pissed. What the fuck was Jake doing here, and why the hell was he interrupting my time with...?

_Fuck_! I didn't even know Java's real name yet. I opened my mouth ask, but before any words could come out, Jake rushed over and grabbed Java by the arm.

"Get the hell out of here, you perv!"

"Jake! What the fuckity-fuck?" I yelled, not at all happy with these turn of events.

I shot up out of the gurney, wanting to throttle Jake, but instead of sitting all the way upright, I began seeing pretty sparkles, and a loud ringing pierced my head. Before I could shout at Java, pleading with him to stay, everything turned black. Eventually I came to, unsure of how much time had passed. However, now it seemed as if I was in a moving ambulance with Jake by my side.

"Ugh," I groaned, not loving the jackhammer-like headache I felt.

"Ah, Miss Sunshine finally decides to make an appearance. Hey, Bells."

I scowled at Jake, wanting to rip him a new one, but I knew that I didn't quite have the energy for that yet. Instead, I flipped him the bird, grimacing when he just laughed at me in response. I flinched as he put his fingers on my skin while wrapping a blood pressure cuff around my arm.

"Aw, Bells, don't be like this. I could remember a time when you enjoyed my fingers on you," he smirked.

I didn't even dignify him with a response and chose to close my eyes and pretend he wasn't there. I could still hear him, though, and groaned as I heard him begin to hum. His humming gave way to some off key singing, and suddenly, I was subjected to my own personal Warren Zevon show.

"Ahhhhh Ooooooooooh, Werewolves of London," he warbled, banging his head in time to the beat.

"Shut. Up." I hissed out, my voice barely a whisper.

"Jeez, Bells. Chill out, why don't you? It's not like I didn't just save your life."

This was ridiculous. It wasn't that bad. I just needed some pain killers, and I could go home and rest. Or better yet, I could swing by the park and pray that Java was still there and we could start over.

"You have some fucking nerve, Jake," I spat out, unable to keep my tirade in any longer, despite the throbbing in my head. "I'm pretty sure I wasn't about to die from a basketball to the head. Just give me some damn Tylenol and let me go!"

As my voice grew louder, my heart rate sped up, and I could literally feel my blood boiling. I started to get really warm and that woozy feeling quickly returned.

"Ohhh..." I moaned out as my head fell back against the gurney.

"Easy, Bells," Jake said, his voice sounding oddly professional.

I glanced over to see what Jake was doing, to see him fiddling with a mini flashlight thingy. Once he finally got it to work, he shined it in my eyes, without so much as a warning.

"Argh!" I shouted, waving my hand in front of my face in defense.

"Sorry about that. I'm just checking your pupils. Listen, Bells. You received a pretty nasty bump to the head, and you've passed out from it multiple times. When you go unconscious for a certain amount of time they'll probably want to keep you overnight for observation," he explained with a shrug.

I nodded, not really feeling like challenging his opinion at the moment. I was actually surprised to hear him speak like he knew what was going on. When Jake had decided to become an EMT I never really thought he would follow through. It was a tough path to get there, and he was one to give up easily. Although, as he was fond of reminding me, I was apparently the one who gave up on "us." It hurt my head even more to think about that bullshit, so instead, I closed my eyes and let Jake do his thing until we reached the hospital.

Things got kind of fuzzy when we arrived at the hospital. Jake had to leave me, rushing off for another emergency call and I was left alone, despite the hustle and bustle of doctors and nurses. I ended up in an area with a bunch of other patients while people poked and prodded me. I tried to doze off, but they didn't let me, telling me I needed to stay alert a bit longer. They sent me through some scanning machine that confirmed that not only was my brain in perfect working order, _thank you very much_, but that nothing was seriously wrong. However, that didn't stop the doctor standing in front of me from insisting that I stay overnight.

"Miss Swan, I understand that you think you feel better, but after sustaining such a severe impact to the head, it is our policy that you remain under observation for a minimum of twenty-four hours. The EMT who brought you in documented multiple occasions of unconsciousness, and standard procedure is to ensure that nothing more serious has occurred before releasing you from our care."

I wondered if it was time to bust out Bitchy Bella, but if I was being honest, I really didn't have it in me. So, if Dr. Horrible was going to force me to stay anyway, I wasn't about to waste my energy fighting him.

"Fine," I relented. "Just point me in the direction of my suite, doc. Oh, and send up some room service, why don'tcha?"

The doctor smiled politely, clearly put off by my brand of crazy and instructed an orderly to wheel me to my room. Thankfully, it only had one bed, and I wouldn't have to be subjected to an actual sick person rooming with me. I hated hospitals. The way they smelled gave me the creeps. It was like they overdid it with cleaning chemicals in order to mask the smell of death. Thankfully, I would be busting out of this place by tomorrow morning, so I wouldn't have to deal with any of it much longer.

After getting settled in the super uncomfortable bed, I looked around for something to do besides twiddling my thumbs. I spotted my bag in the chair next to the bed and leaned over to pull it to my lap. After popping in some gum, thanks to the mysterious E.C., I flipped open my phone, eager to see if Java had tweeted after I'd been hauled away from him. Before I was even able to turn the damn thing on, a pair of meaty hands grabbed it right out of my grip.

"What the...?"

Before I was able to finish my sentence, I inhaled a whiff of rotten tuna breath and started choking.

"Ah, tsk tsk. Watch your mouth young lady," trilled the phone stealer.

I looked into a pair of hard, steel gray eyes. The face they were attached to came into focus and I looked around, grasping frantically for the call button.

"Nurse!" I shouted out, wondering how the fuck they let crazies in, unattended.

"Yes?" purred the person in front of me.

"Y-y-you?" I gulped, "You're my nurse?"

I took in the person before me, and noticed that, indeed, she was wearing a nurse. At least, I assumed it was a she. There were lumpy curves in the right places, yet the dusting of black hairs across her lip and between her brows told me another story. Her big, paw-like hands easily plucked the phone from my hands, and she trained her stare at me.

"There are no cell phones allowed in the hospital, dear. Please turn this off or it will have to be confiscated."

I blanched, not wanting my lifeline to Java to be snatched away, so I quickly nodded my head and held out my bag, hoping she'd drop it in. After giving my the hairy eyeball, she relented, dumping it in. She checked my chart and told me to relax, as if that were possible after dealing with the likes of her. After watching her with hawk-eyes to ensure she didn't pilfer my phone, I settled in to the bed and turned the television on, hoping to find something to calm my nerves. Eventually, Nurse Ratchet left, giving me some peace of mind. I continued to flip through the channels, but there wasn't much on in the afternoon aside from Judge Judy or soaps. I settled on a soap, but I soon found myself drifting off.

I was having a pleasant dream. I was still in the hospital room, but soft muzac was being pumped into the room from somewhere. The door opened, and instead of the Wicked Bitch from the West that had almost stolen my phone, a young doctor walked in. He. Was. Hot. I blinked a few times, wondering if what I was seeing was right. It was Java dressed head to toe in scrubs. A few bronze chest hairs peeked out of his turquoise scrub top, and his eyebrow twitched slightly as he looked me up and down over the top of the chart in his hands.

"Miss Swan, is it? I see you've gotten a bad bruise to the head."

He leaned over me, his arm brushing up against my breast.

"I...I...think I have a fever, doctor," I said breathlessly. "I'm feeling hot."

Dr. Java pulled the stethoscope that was around his neck off and placed the cool circular end against my chest.

"Hmm...you do seem to be burning up."

I should have been put off that he was checking my temperature with a stethoscope, but it didn't seem to bother me one bit in the moment. Hell, he could have gotten his medical degree from the back of a cereal box, for all I cared.

"I think I need to run some tests," he said, as he took a hold of my hand.

He lowered his head and began peppering my hand with light kisses.

"Yes, you definitely feel hot," he hissed, as he continued to work his way up my arm.

He was almost at my elbow, and his kisses were becoming more frantic as he began to suck and moan as he lapped at my feverish skin. He lifted his head up, and I looked into his eyes, frightened by what I saw. They've had turned dark red and his entire face took on a frightening look. He smiled evilly before bending back down, and just as the music in my head turned louder, his teeth made contact with my arm, breaking the skin.

"Motherfucking vampire son-of-a-bitch!" I shouted out, sitting up in fear.

I was breathing rapidly and felt a stinging in my arm.

"Ouch!"

When I opened my eyes, Dr. Java was nowhere to be found, and the music was gone, replaced only by the cackling of the crazy nurse beside me. _Stupid dream. _She patted my arm in the least maternal way ever before opening her mouth to speak. Her nasty garbage breath assaulted me once more.

"Just needed to hook you up to an IV. Nothing to be alarmed about. It's the easiest way to get some fluids in you, so we can get you out of here faster. There are a couple of um, ladies, here to see you. Shall I send them in?"

The way her face puckered up at the use of the word 'ladies,' made me confident that Alice and Rose were on the other side of the door, so I nodded eagerly. Thankfully, she didn't waste much time. After taping the needle to my skin, she jotted some notes on the chart and headed towards the door, ushering the girls in.

"What the hell bitches?!" I shouted by way of greeting as soon as Nurse Stabs-a-Lot was out of hearing range.

"Dude, relax. We pretty much saved your life," Rose said with a wave of her hand.

I rolled my eyes at her but was eternally grateful when she bent over to hug me, whispering in my ear. "Don't you dare do that to us again, Swan. Got it?"

I nodded, wiping my eyes before I completely fell apart. Alice came over and hugged me next, almost crushing me in the process. They both sat at the foot of the bed and filled me in on what had happened after I past out.

"It really was a clusterfuck, Bella," explained Alice. "And then, once Jake arrived, well, that was just ridiculous."

I waved it all away, wanting to know one important detail.

"So..." I said, making sure I had their attention. "What's his name?"

They looked at me with confused expressions.

"Who, Bella?"

"Java!" I shouted, exasperated.

"Oh..." Alice trailed off, offering no further information.

"You see..." Rose shared at the same time.

I glared at my soon to be ex-bestfriends, my brow furrowed in anger.

"You were there the entire time, hanging around with all of them, and neither of you thought to get his damn name?"

"Um..."

"Well..."

Alice avoided my gaze, and Rose wasn't any better.

"Um, we were so worried about you..." Alice started before Rose cut her off, excitedly.

"No, it's okay!"

"Okay?" I asked, confused as to how me getting beaned in the head with a basketball in front of my still somewhat anonymous Twitter crush was 'okay.'

"Yeah, totally chill, Bella. Lemon chill..." she giggled.

I looked up at her, scowling.

"Did you slip some of my Demerol when the nurse wasn't looking?" I asked, trying to figure out her uncharacteristic, almost Valley girl behavior.

"Pshaw," she snorted. "As if."

Rose, now accompanied by Alice, burst into another round of giggles. I glared at them until they shut up, pissed that I was friends with Tweedle Dumb and Dumber.

"Spill it," I demanded.

"Well, you know the one that we were staring at? The one with the... um... anaconda in his pants?" At that, Rose burst into another round of giggles, and it took her a few minutes to compose herself enough to continue.

"He sort of asked me out on a date. His name is Emmett, and I'm sure he can get more info on your Twitter pal. They seemed awfully chummy."

I looked at Rose, my mouth hanging open.

"Let me see if I get this right. We went to the park to stalk my Twitter guy. I end up getting smacked in the head with a basketball, and while I was passed out in the ambulance, you were macking on some dude?"

Rose shrugged.

"Not just some dude, Bella. A dude with a fucking huge ass shlong."

I hung my head, crushed that Rose had put dicks before chicks. I saw Alice glare at Rose as she took my hand.

"Don't worry, Bella. We'll make this right. I promise."

Rose nodded enthusiastically alongside her.

"We will. I'm sorry, Bella."

Before I could yell at them one more time, Nurse Bitchface came back in, demanding they leave. She checked a few more things and then escorted my girls out of the room. Despite being slightly peeved that Rose had spent more time trying to get into some guy's pants instead of helping a sister out and finding out more about Java, I couldn't stay angry for long. I was actually happy that Rose had a potential date out of this. It still didn't make me any less sad that I had missed out on a chance with my guy, though. I decided I had to do something about it.

As soon as Nurse KillJoy left my room, I whipped out my BlackBerry, not caring if I was going to short the pacemaker of old man Johnson in room 203. There were things that needed to be done. I waited for my cell to turn on and then quickly scrolled down, opening the application like somebody jonesing for their next hit of crack. Frankly, I was shocked that I wasn't shaking.

I searched through my Twitter contacts to see if Java had updated with anything, but sadly, his account had been silent since he had mentioned he was going to the game. I debated contacting him directly, but since I was a complete pussy, I opted for the totally passive aggressive move of simply updating my own status and waited to see if he'd tweet me first.  
**  
NoSleepTill718: Waiting on a hot murse to give me my sponge bath. **

It was complete and utter bullshit. I'd checked out every nurse that came into my room and none of them were male or remotely hot. But, I figured a little fibbing for the sake of getting a response would be acceptable. I waited patiently to see if Java would respond. I figured he most likely wasn't sitting by his computer waiting for me to tweet, but a girl could dream, couldn't she? It wasn't like I had anywhere to go for the next twenty-two hours anyway, so I sat and waited, hoping to hear from him soon.

I must have drifted off, because when I opened my eyes, it was now two hours later. I rushed to grab my phone, which thankfully had not been snatched up by Nursezilla in the last couple of hours. Because I was a glutton for punishment, I went right for my Twitter app to see if Java had written anything.

He hadn't written me directly, but he _had_ updated. Based on what he had written, clearly Java was a master in the way of the pussy as well.  
**  
JavaTheHuttt: Hot Murse? Men look stupid in colorful scrubs with smiley faces.**

He was totally responding to my tweet without actually responding to me. I debated pulling the same shit, but instead, I hoped he was still on. Maybe we could have some sort of a conversation, albeit limited to one-hundred and forty characters.  
**  
NoSleepTill718 (a)JavaTheHutt: I bet you wouldn't look stupid in colorful scrubs w/smiley faces. Got sponge?**

I giggled at my own lame humor and wondered if I'd get playful Java or completely obliviously Java. I tapped my finger on the side rail to the bed as I waited for him to respond. I didn't have to wait long, thankfully.

**JavaTheHuttt (a)NoSleepTill718: I'd look like the Chiquita banana lady. Sponge? Yeah, I've got one. You okay?  
**  
I snickered, imagining Java all dressed up with a basket of fruit on his head and a sparkly dress. Hmm...actually, it might be sort of cute. I wondered if he was into role playing...

The creaking of a door stole my attention, and I shoved my phone under my pillow just in time. An orderly came in, baring my dinner. I gave him a smile, hoping he'd leave immediately and was relieved when he did. I ignored the food for a moment while I replied to Java.  
**  
NoSleepTill718 (a)JavaTheHutt: I'm fine. Head hurting just a little bit less. About to tuck into whatever passes for haute cuisine around here.**  
**  
JavaTheHuttt (a)NoSleepTill718: I'm sorry. Food there is horrible. Inedible. If you had your choice, what would you eat?**

I didn't even need to think before answering.

**NoSleepTill718 (a)JavaTheHutt: 5 Guys!!! Instead of this...I think it's supposed to be meat? *whispers* Is meat supposed to jiggle?  
**  
I poked at the gray mass on my plate with my fork, holding back the urge to vomit.

**JavaTheHuttt (a)NoSleepTill718: Jiggling meat? *shudders* What do you order from 5 Guys? I'm just curious.  
**  
I smiled, wondering what Java's game was.

**NoSleepTill718 (a)JavaTheHutt: Fries, definitely fries. And a burger, well done. And a large Cherry Coke *drool***

I grumbled, a little peeved that Java was making me crave 5 Guys while I was faced with this slop in front of me. I wondered if the white stuff was mashed potatoes. I prodded it with my fork, but I gave up when it wouldn't budge.  
**  
JavaTheHuttt (a)NoSleepTill718: Sounds good. Drooling over food or did the chart-wielding Chiquita banana return?**

I actually laughed out loud. If Java was going to tease me, I decided to have a little fun on his behalf.  
**  
NoSleepTill718 (a)JavaTheHutt: Mmhmm. And now he's working his way up my thighs, water dripping from his sponge. Feels. So. Good.  
**  
While I waited for Java to respond, I realized this was the perfect opportunity to ask him for his name. I felt kinda awkward that we had gone this far without sharing our names. Although, I still couldn't get past the fact that somebody at that game knew _my_ name.

**JavaTheHuttt: (a)NoSleepTill718 Sounds like fun. I don't want to interrupt, I'll let you be then. Enjoy the sponge.  
**  
My face fell, wondering if he was jumping ship. I hadn't meant for my teasing to upset him. I scrambled to come up with a good response, but before I could I saw that he sent out a general tweet to all his followers.  
**  
JavaTheHuttt: Is the way to a woman's heart through her stomach or underwater sea creature?  
**  
I felt my face flush a bit and wondered if it was from the IV bag I was hooked up to. After a second read through of Java's tweet, I had a feeling it was something else all together. My fingers flew over the keyboard in response.

**NoSleepTill718 (a)JavaTheHutt: Stomach. Definitely stomach. Although a miniature seahorse is a close second.  
**  
Then, I decided to bite the bullet and go balls to the wall. Now I was pretty sure that I was fueled by whatever crazy shit they had injected me when I got here.

**NoSleepTill718 (a)JavaTheHutt: P.S. hi. My name is Bella and I like miniature sea creatures.  
**  
It was out there, and there was no going back. I bit my lip, wondering how he'd respond. I didn't have to wait long as three tweets in a row popped up on my screen.  
**  
JavaTheHuttt (a)NoSleepTill718: I do too. Bella? It's beautiful. Just like you.  
**

**JavaTheHuttt (a)NoSleepTill718: Fish are friends, NOT food.  
**

**JavaTheHuttt: Transparent, much? Way to go, slick.**

My blush grew something fierce when I saw that he had called me beautiful. A lot of guys had tried that line on me when they first heard my name, and it always annoyed the shit out of me. Coming from Java, however, it felt sweet. I giggled at his tweet about fishies. I had forgotten that he had mentioned he was a vegetarian, so he had probably grimaced over my love for 5 Guys. I heard the door to my room rattling and knew my time was limited. I needed to act fast.

**NoSleepTill718 (a)JavaTheHutt: Ack! Got to go - Nurse Rachet is coming back. Bye...?(It'd be nice to have your name, finally!).  
**  
I held on to my phone as long as I could, despite hearing the squeaky rubber of orthopedic shoes coming towards me. I huddled down under the covers, hoping I wouldn't be hassled if it looked like I was sleeping. When it was quiet for a few moments, I thought I had succeeded, until I heard the sound of a throat clearing right above me. I looked up to see the disapproving face of Nurse FunSuck hovering above me. Before the hosebeast was able to rip the phone from my tight grip, I was able to make out Java's last tweet.  
**  
JavaTheHuttt (a)NoSleepTill718: I'm Edward. Feel better, Bella. **  
_  
Edward...

* * *

_**A/N: ***sigh*

Lara's up next with Hackerward...who knows, maybe we'll get lucky and she'll have him sneak into the hospital to give Bella her sponge bath...


	9. Misfeature

**A/N: ::****climbs out of hole::**

**Heeeey, so remember that time that I gave you the extra long chapter because you had to wait forever for an update? Yeah, this is one of those times. I'm so, so sorry for the unannounced hiatus. There are mountains of excuses like finishing up the semester, RL drama, and various other shit... but who cares? You'd rather get to the chapter, right? **

**To the betafish **_**Miss Lexiecullen17**_**, dear God woman, thank you. This chapter was an epic disaster as I transitioned from stats analysis work to fic again. Any mistakes left behind are my own damn fault. She's the driving force behind the ::cough:: detail ::cough:: in this chapter.**

**Yoga, my love, thank you for being so patient. Really. You have no idea. Oh, and I'm sorry ahead of time. Have fun with the next chapter... ::epic snort::**

**Readers, thank you for your continued patience. Here's the longest chapter yet for your troubles. Hackerward has missed you.**

**Disclaimer: I really don't fucking own Twilight. **

_**TAKE IT AWAY, HACKERWARD!**_

_**

* * *

**_

"Misfeature"

The walk back from the park to my apartment was quiet, and I kept my head down the entire time. When Emmett and I had reached the lobby, I awkwardly fished out my keys from inside my pocket while balancing my laptop in the other hand.

"Don't you have a home you can run off to? I'd really like to, you know, be alone for awhile," I said quietly, my eyes trained on my front door. "Really, Emmett. I just...can't be social right now."

"That's exactly why I'm here, bro. I'm not letting you pull this emo shit. What're you gonna do, sit in the fucking dark and cry because of whatever happened back there? I'm not standing around while you audition for some new Discovery Channel special called 'Sexual Reconstruction Surgery: The Before and After,' if I can help it. So, put down the vag miracle-grow, and cheer up. It couldn't have been that bad."

"And that's where you're wrong, Em," I said with a groan as I opened the door and dragged myself into the apartment. Tossing my keys on the kitchen table with my laptop, I scrubbed my face with two hands before speaking again. "It _really_ was that bad. You have no idea."

Walking past Emmett, I plopped down on the couch and threw my head back to stare at the ceiling. There were two distinct water stains breaking up the eggshell, or cream, or oatmeal, or linen, or alabaster, or any other fancy fucking name for bright-as-shit white paint that had covered the plaster overhead. I must have been looking at the spots for too long; blobs of plain old shit-brown turned into what vaguely resembled an ambulance and the crude outline of a basketball.

Even the ceiling mocked me.

I threw my arms over my eyes, and a pained half-laugh, half-whimper left my lips before I mumbled, "Fuck the entirety of my life."

"What was that?" Emmett laughed from inside the kitchen, and I heard the refrigerator door open, along with the sounds of objects being placed on the counter.

Emmett must have been hunting.

"Nothing," I sighed, drowning in my newfound role as Captain of the S.S. Failboat.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were suddenly going to acknowledge that you were cockblocked by sporting goods and an ex-boyfriend all in the course of one forty-five minute time span."

"I hate you."

"Alright, well, while you're busy channeling your displaced anger, I'm going outside to make a phone call. You'd better have your shit sorted out by the time I come back in," he said sternly, walking up behind me and ruffling my hair.

"Going to call Dr. Phil for more bullshit psychological advice on the situation?" I asked while pushing his hand away.

"No, you dick. I'm calling the HR people from 'Intervention.' Maybe they have a slot open for your socially inept ass," he quipped as he opened the door of the apartment. "Oh, and your girl's blonde friend? Rosalie?"

"What about her?"

"I asked her out while you were busy in the ambulance. We've got a date next week. Just thought you should know."

The expression on my face must have mirrored that of the owl in the Tootsie Pop commercials as my eyes went wide with shock, and my mouth formed an "O" in disbelief.

"So, let me get this straight," I started, turning away from him and tilting my head back to look at the ceiling. "Her best friend was just whisked away, unconscious, into an ambulance by a guy belonging in the Museum of Natural History's display of the First Thanksgiving, and you decided this was the proper time to ask for her number? Really, Em? Are you fucking kidding me?"

His eyebrows mashed together in confusion like two caterpillars fighting over a leaf. "You really think he's Native American? I was thinking more Hispanic. His coloring was very Chilean, but he seemed too tall. Maybe he's Brazilian?"

I rolled my eyes dramatically in his direction. "Now you want to focus on her ex-boyfriend? You're the worst wingman ever. How many times have I've been your wingman, Em?"

"That would be none. To be a wingman, you need game."

"I have game," I said defensively, and crossed my arms over my chest.

"I'm not talking about Dungeons and Dragons, bro."

We were silent for a minute, both of us staying completely still until I let out a deep sigh. He was right – "game" was not a skill I possessed when it came to the ladies.

"Alright, point taken. Go make your phone call, then come back and school me with your wise knowledge, oh guru of all things cock and pussy." I encouraged him out with an exaggerated bow.

As soon as the door had clicked shut, I jumped off the couch and ran out of the room, anxious to get onto my main computers and check on Isabella.

Roommates were for people that had a tolerance for other humans – a trait I didn't possess - so I had turned the second bedroom into an office/playroom for me and Linux to share. Her side of the room was covered in kitty jungle gyms, toys, a castle-shaped litter box that all but wiped her ass for her, and a shitload of catnip in tightly closed containers. At least, I had thought they were tightly closed. The scattered flecks of green leaves all over the floor told me otherwise.

"Lin? What're you doing?"

_Yes, I talk to my cat – Fuck off. _

She just looked at me while licking one of her paws, and a torn-open bag of treats lay empty at her side. The smug look on her face screamed, "That's right fucker, I get what I want."

And she always did.

Always.

Stepping over her completely stoned ass, I walked to my computers and booted everything; I was a man on a mission. It only took a few minutes to access the ambulance dispatch system, and I quickly found the call to Central Park where Isabella had been picked up, along with the name of the hospital she had been taken to. I saw that Ambulance 314D had been dispatched on another call over twenty minutes earlier, so I knew that Isabella would be sans Jake at that point. My phone was in my hand which was dialing the hospital before I knew what I was doing.

"Mount Sinai Medical Center, how may I direct your call?" a soft voice asked from the other side of the line.

"Hi, um, I, uh, well..." I stammered. I heard the door of my apartment open in the background, signaling my need to speak quickly. "I'm looking to check on a patient, actually."

"Name?"

"Isabella Swan."

"Relation to the patient?"

I panicked. Clearly, I hadn't thought this particular plan through very well. In fact, I hadn't thought about it much at all. I answered in a rush, "Her brother."

"Can you verify the patient's date of birth, please?"

Jesus fucking Christ, you'd have thought I was giving authorization to pull the fucking plug on her life support with the amount of questions they asked. "I'm sorry, can you repeat the question?" I stalled while bringing up Isabella's information from the DMV.

_I'm really not a stalker, I swear. _

"Her date of birth, sir."

"September 13th, 1986."

"Okay sir, she's in the ER right now, would you like me to transfer you over?"

"Yes please."

"One moment," she said, and the craptastic hold music blared through the speaker. Unfortunately, my luck with the whole situation was about to run out.

Just as a voice came through my phone once more, signaling the successful transfer from the switchboard, Emmett's obnoxious words came through louder than ever.

"Now that is one blissed-out fucking pussy. Good to know you can keep _this_ one happy, Edward."

I gulped, slamming my forehead on the desk in front of me. "Hello?" I asked warily, trying to see if the ER had dropped my call due to lewd commentary.

"Uh, yes?" a small voice croaked. Fuck, they'd heard it.

"Yeah, um, I'm calling to check on Isabella Swan?" The clicking of keys in the background led me to believe that I'd have to play twenty fucking questions with this person too. "I'm her brother, and her birthday is September 13th, 1986. I can give you any other information you need if you want," I said quietly, knowing that Emmett could hear every word. It didn't take long for him to respond, either.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me!" he shouted, and I glared at him. "Do you know her favorite fucking color too, Edward?"

"Shut the fuck up, Em!" I whisper-yelled back with my hand over the receiver. "I'm just making sure she's okay."

"She's fine, bro. She's in a fucking hospital. How could she be anything but okay if she's in the fucking hospital?"

He had a point.

"Um, sir?" my phone spoke again. "I'm sorry, but Isabella is speaking with the doctor right now. Could you call back?"

"Yeah, um, okay. Sure."

I hung up the phone, then quickly got up from my chair and punched Emmett in the shoulder. He didn't even flinch, and my hand stung like shit.

_God, I'm a fucking wimp. Hi, I'd like to order the "noodles for arms," with a side of "couldn't fend off a fruit fly, please?"_

I briefly pondered if the Girl Scouts taught self-defense. Door to door sales were no fucking joke.

_I could take 'em._

"Why do you even bother?" Emmett asked as he pointed to his shoulder.

"Fuck you, I tried. More importantly, you're a douche. You couldn't have stayed quiet for two fucking minutes?"

"Oh, why? So you could stalk your chick in private? No can do, bro. This shit is getting out of hand. And her brother? What would you have said if she fucking picked up? Listen, I'mma get some food for us. Go...I don't know, take a shower or some shit. And absolutely _no_ going on the computer, okay? Just...fucking behave," he chided.

"This isn't some inbred hick-flick, A-hole. I know we came from the same uterus. I'm twenty-five years old, Em. I don't need a parent."

He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath before walking out into the living room with me following behind. I had wanted to make sure that he actually left the apartment before I could attempt to hack into the hospital mainframe to check on Isabella.

"Dude, I'm going now, but, please, no more fucking looking into her background."

"I won't." I already knew everything.

"And don't you go calling the hospital again."

"I won't." Not as me, anyway.

"And absolutely no accessing her hospital records."

I was silent.

Emmett raised his eyebrows, then walked over to the counter to grab a piece of paper and a pen. After he scribbled something down, I leaned over to read the words he'd written.

Emmett was a fucking douche.

**I, Edward Cullen, will NOT do anything related to Isabella Swan on the computer while Emmett Cullen is not within five feet of my presence today. **

"Sign this," he said as he handed me the pen.

As I signed the stupid piece of paper and dated that shit so he couldn't ever try and use it again, only one thing was running through my mind.

God bless the motherfucking iPhone.

X – X – X

Emmett had walked out of the apartment not even twenty minutes earlier, and I'd already set up my twitter account to send me a text should Isabella decide to tweet anything. Something she hadn't done since before the whole basketball, head injury, and constant erection fiasco of this afternoon. Since I hadn't heard anything through mass communication, and access to her hospital records had been cut off by some shit excuse for a binding document, Twitter was the only thing I could rely on for information.

Well, not the only thing.

I could always call the hospital again.

And call I did.

Only this time, I 411'ed that shit and dialed the ER directly. See, I learned.

"Hello, I called earlier to try and reach Isabella Swan, but she was meeting with a doctor, and I was told to call back, so I am. Calling back, that is. And this is, uh, well this is her brother, and her birthday is September thirteenth, 1986."

Shit, with how many times I'd repeated her goddamn birthday today, it was going to become as obvious as the date for fucking Valentine's Day or some shit. Then again, Isabella's birthday was one of those days that should be fucking celebrated; I wanted to send her parents a card for having sex and creating such a magnificent creature.

That was a mistake. My dick was harder than ever – Thinking about the gloriousness that was Isabella's rocking body and sexy as shit voice asking me to lay down with her...Fuck. I needed to stop thinking.

"Alright, sir. Hold one moment, please," the voice on the other end said, and I spun around on my computer chair. My feet slapped the floor with a start, and I shot up.

How could I justify talking to Isabella on the phone? It's not like I had had a conversation with her while she was coherent, and the last time we spoke, I'd all but slapped her in the face with my dick.

Fuck, there I was, thinking about my cock and Isabella in the same sentence again.

"Okay, sir?"

"Yes?"

"Isabella has visitors right now, but I'll transfer you up to her room anyway. Hold please."

Transfer?

TRANSFER?

Fuck. What was I going to say? "Oh hello Isabella, this is Edward, you don't know me, like at all, but I'm the guy that almost assaulted you with my penis the last time we spoke. Remember? You asked me to lay down with you in the ambulance? Yeah, well, I just wanted to make sure that you were okay and that your brain injury didn't cause you to hump your ex-boyfriend because I think you're awesome, and I've never stalked anyone quite like you before. Oh, and I promise it's not as bad as it sounds."

Yeah, that would go over well.

Before the line could start ringing in Isabella's room, I hung up and placed my phone down on the desk.

"Why? Why can't I just be fucking normal for once?" I whined into the open air.

Linux meowed in the background.

"Don't agree with me, Lin. Wouldn't you want a nice girl around here?"

She meowed again, followed by an angry hiss.

"You'll always be my girl," I said, getting up to pet her, but my little – well, not so little – _problem_ reared its head in my boxer briefs.

_Yes, I wear boxer briefs. You try walking around with visions of Isabella in your head without a little confinement. That shit's impossible. _

Upon walking, not even Calvin Klein could keep my dick from straining against the rough denim of my jeans, and I hissed loudly from the contact.

_Yeah, I have to do something about that._

Looking at the clock on my phone, I saw that I still had time before Captain Jackass made his grand and unwelcome appearance back at my apartment. I only had so long to...relieve a little pressure without judgment from the asshole brigade.

Well, I had almost made it without judgment. Linux stared at me as I was leaving the room...like she knew what I was about to do, but I knew better than to try and jerk it with her around.

Learned _that_ shit the hard way.

"Don't look at me like that," I spoke directly to her judgmental furball ass, and yet my mind was elsewhere. Like what it would have been like to actually snuggle with Isabella on a hospital stretcher.

Yes, you assholes, I said snuggle. I had a fucking heart.

And yes, I knew it was pathetic to maintain a fucking hard-on with thoughts of over-the-clothes cuddles in a tiny ass cot.

_I'm a goddamn delicate flower. _

And no, there wasn't a hidden agenda. I was worried about her, and my heart smashed in my chest like one of those unfortunate crash test dummies hitting a brick wall doing 120mph in a Volvo commercial. Now, regardless of those being some safe fucking vehicles – yeah, I read Consumer Reports – I still imagined that it was anything but a pleasant feeling. Much like the hole punched through my fucking sternum at the thought that the girl I actually wanted to date being in the damn hospital because of my shithead brother.

And a basketball.

Aaand, there goes the erection.

I reached down and checked to see if my dick hadn't shriveled up and turned into a vagina. Fucking feelings.

Yep, it was still there.

And I was going to use it.

Take that, Emmett.

And Jake.

And for the love of all that is fucking holy...Isabella.

I really wanted her to take it.

_Not like...I mean... I meant it as...Ugh, fuck it. _

The erection was back, and I was alone.

In true MC Hammer style, I shuffled my feet toward my shower, eager to fill my head with steam – and of course, thoughts about what _should_ have happened in the ambulance.

I thanked God that I was alone because as the bathroom door shut behind me, I sang out, "Alright, stop! It's jerkin' time!" complete with the "morphin'" motions of the Power Rangers.

Yeah, that actually happened.

X-X-X

The water running down my back felt better than breaking the seal after five beers and a twenty minute line for the only bathroom at a shitty house party. Apparently, I was stressed. I knew the whole situation with Isabella was an epic clusterfuck of crap.

While in school, I had been known for my ability to solve complex problems, and yet I understood that there weren't any algorithms or codes to get me into Isabella's pants. And, if I was being honest, it wasn't just her pants in which I wanted to gain access – seeing her lying on the ground in the park had proved that much. Anxious and scared that something might have actually happened to her, my mind went into overdrive when I had walked away after the great basketball fail. Even if the whole situation hadn't occurred, it's wasn't as if I had any clue as to how speak to her. _To confess_. I wanted more than just her body – her ridiculously hot, tight, delicious, fucking body. Thinking of her perfect ass, luscious sweater pillows, and absurdly pouty lips had my dick twitching like an addict in the evidence room in Downtown LA. But, even then, I was still only half-mast. It was like my body fucking knew that I had no chance with her.

I let out a weak chuckle as I looked down at my barely-conscious penis. Where the fuck was his excitement? There were probably only ten minutes before Emmett fucking came back, and my dick couldn't have been bothered to help me out?

"Well, fuck you too, then," I said, then slammed my forehead against the tiles of the shower. "Wow, Edward. You're talking to your dick. You are above and beyond the single most pathetic person on the planet."

Back to Isabella. There _had_ been something between us – a moment - and in the ambulance, I had felt it. The sweet sound of her voice, even if it was spewing weird crap about hallucinations of fictional doctors, had crawled into my skull and set up shop like the phlegm in those Mucinex commercials.

What would have happened if her bastard of a cockblocking ex hadn't shown up?

With my imagination running wild, my thumb brushed the tattoo I'd gotten when I graduated MIT – "w3r3 411 m4d h3r3," written on my right hip, a tribute to my love for Lewis Carroll and the genius that was Alice in Wonderland. I wanted her to see it, for her to ask me what it meant; and if things had gone my way, she might have.

I would have crawled onto that tiny ass stretcher and draped my legs over hers. Carefully picking up her head, I'd have slid my arm underneath so she'd fit in that fucking spot between my shoulder and neck. And trust me, I'd stared at her long enough to do the calculations – she'd have fit perfectly in my arms.

Closing my eyes, I happily ignored that I was going to jerk it in the shower, alone, and I pretended I was really there with her.

_She was the epitome of innocent and gorgeous. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," I whispered as I dragged my thumb over her soft lips. "I dream about kissing you." _

_Isabella's eyes darted back and forth between my own, then down to my lips, and I knew she wanted me to kiss her. Pressing my lips against hers, I moved our mouths together with ease; she felt so right. Her mouth latched onto my top lip, subtly forcing her bottom one into my mouth, and I caught it, squeezing the flesh lightly with my own. I wanted to feel more, so I dragged my tongue along her bottom lip before taking it between my teeth. She tasted like girl, a flavor I couldn't remember because it had been so long, but it was probably something like fruit and sunshine and alcohol. Seductively addictive. I pushed my lips harder into hers, hoping that she'd let me stick my tongue in her mouth. But, not gross kissing like you see in porn but like nice, classy sex scenes with fancy sheet drape-age and subtle movements under the blanket. _

_Isabella opened her mouth slightly, seemingly reading my thoughts, allowing my tongue to slip in her mouth and touch hers. _

Fuck, even thinking about it, I couldn't stop the moan from escaping, betraying that I was actually alone in the fucking shower, and not where I desired most.

_Back to the fucking fantasy, idiot. God, you can even ruin your own imagination. _

_I curled the arm I had beneath her head, pulling her face closer to mine as my tongue danced with hers. My free hand stayed at my side, clutched in a fist until she grabbed it in her own and drew it around her neck. She gave me her lower lip once more, and I gently coaxed the soft flesh into my mouth to nibble on the surface. I felt the vibrations of her moan against my skin, and I whimpered but increased the pressure of my teeth and tongue on her lip, attempting to draw out the sound. Her mouth broke away from mine with a soft cry, and I moved my hand from around her neck to cup her cheek, my thumb stroking the flushed skin. _

"_I wish I could kiss you forever," I said quietly, and it was true. As I opened my eyes, the only thing running through my mind were variations of "more" and" please." _

_Her eyes were heavy, and she looked like she hadn't slept for days but even with hooded eyes, they danced in excitement. A smile broke out across her face. Raising her hand, she wrapped her fingers around the back of my neck, pulling my face to hers once more, and captured my lips. The force of her hand and the feel of her tongue licking my lips caused me to moan, and she opened her mouth against mine. She stroked my tongue with hers, playfully teasing, while our mouths collided with heated passion. _

_Her hands dove into my hair, scratching my scalp, and I fucking purred like an idiot, but that shit felt good. My hands threaded into the shiny brown strands by the back of her neck, and I held her face to mine. She'd turned her body to face my own, and every inch of her was pressed against an inch of me. My body felt like it had been set on fire, and the hand in her hair tightened around the base of her skull before moving to explore the length of her body. She was all angles and lines, but the shape of her was so perfectly unique, geometry didn't have a name for it; she didn't need one – I would call it unnamed perfection. _

My dick was harder than attempting to find the fucking God Particle, as I reached down to take it in my hand. Wrapping my fist around my base, I slowly slid my hand up the shaft to the head, holding it in my palm and squeezing slightly. A groan tore out of my mouth and echoed in the empty space in the shower. It left me feeling hollow, but I closed my eyes once more and drifted back to Isabella.

_Placing my hand on her hip, I slowly drew a line down the outside of her thigh until I reached her knee and wrapped my fingers around it. I lifted her leg onto my torso, moving her until she was draped over my hip, and her soft body was against me. Running my hand from her knee to her thigh, I traced the muscles straining against her jeans, and I felt her moan into my mouth again. My voice matched hers in odd sounds of excitement, and the leg around my back tightened, urging me closer. Shifting my leg, I moved myself into the small space between her thighs, and she wiggled until my hard-on was against her stomach. I tore my mouth away from hers, whimpering her name around gasps for air. Feeling embarrassed about the sounds coming from my mouth, I pressed my lips to the soft skin of her neck and dropped kisses to the places I could reach. As I moved up the column of her neck, I dipped my tongue out of my mouth to taste her for the first time. She tasted like lust, like fucking happiness, and I couldn't get enough. My tongue traced circles and triangles and damn octagons along her skin. It was as if I I'd lost control of all motor function. _

_Wrapping my lips just below her ear, I sucked the flesh into my mouth, nipped at it, and then soothed the bites with my tongue. Her mouth was right next to my ear, blessing my senses with her shaky breaths and quiet mewls, and upon hearing hear moan, I shifted my hips into hers. I cried out, the pressure of denim against denim sending sparks from my dick to my toes, and my eyes squeezed shut. _

"_Does that feel good?" she asked, and I let out a pained chuckle._

"_Yes," I answered, my voice strained. In my mind, I was the one to reassure her that what she did felt good to me. I wasn't fumbling or unsteady as I pressed my hips to hers once more. _

_Her arms went around my neck, pulling my face back to hers and capturing my lips with a feverish hunger. _

_Feverish hunger?_

_Whatever, just go with it._

I started moving my hand faster over my dick, long, fluid strokes over the hardened flesh as I imagined rocking myself in between Isabella's thighs.

"_Oh, Edward. You feel so good," her voice was soft in my ear, and her tongue reached out to lick the shell before she pulled the cartilage into her mouth._

"_Mmm, Isabella," I moaned, then ran my hand along her arm. _

_Kissing her again, I twisted Isabella onto her back and moved to cover her body with my own. Her thighs wrapped around my waist, pulling my hips flush against hers, and I gladly settled myself against her clothed girl parts. I filled the previously empty space with my ridiculously hard dick, and I groaned as I pressed myself to her, pushing in between her legs several times. Shamelessly rubbing myself on her, I cried out her name continuously, and she reached up, latching her arms around my neck. I leaned down, painting her neck with my tongue and lips before moving up to her ear. _

"_I'll lose myself in you, Isabella. You make me forget, help me remember, and I can't stop," I whispered. "But even if I could stop, I don't want to. I only want you. Always. Just. Like. This." Each word was echoed with a nudge of my hips in between her legs._

"_Don't stop," she cried, and I sped up._

My hand worked myself faster, and I envisioned pushing my hips into hers, my hard against her soft.

_The rough denim of my jeans rubbed along the sensitive skin shielded within the cotton of my boxer briefs. Her legs opened wider, allowing me to move over her, closer than before and yet, still not close enough. I braced myself on my knees, rocking gently back and forth over her clothed sex, listening to her soft mewls in my ear. _

Water flowed down my stomach, helping my hand slide over my dick, and I started breathing heavier. Nearly panting, I bit my lip to keep from crying out, but even still, it wasn't enough. I needed more. I needed to feel her.

_Lowering myself to one of my elbows, I ran my hand along her collarbone, down over her boobs, and pushed underneath her shirt to stroke the soft skin of her stomach. One of her hands grabbed my wrist and pulled it upwards, the movement causing me to slip beneath her bra and onto the silky expanse of her naked tit. I squeezed it, running my fingers over her hardened nipple, and I covered my mouth with hers. Feeling her moan against my lips, I opened my mouth to stroke her tongue with mine. _

My hand moved faster still, holding myself tighter, and I felt my hips rocking back and forth, mimicking the scene behind my closed eyes. With every pass up my shaft, I turned my wrist, my thumb and index finger massaging the skin underneath the head in practiced effort. Even with the water constantly running over me, I felt pre-cum leak out of the slit, and my eyes rolled back when I rubbed it into the head with my thumb.

"Fuck," I mumbled, the muscles in my forearm straining with the repetitive up down motions as I worked myself over.

_Isabella's hands scratched down my back and into my pockets, her fingers digging into the denim over my ass and pulling me tighter against her. Our hips crashed together in a perfect rhythm, hers meeting mine in a frantic race towards release. My fingers slid out from where I held her perfect tit and moved down her stomach to push on her clothed sex. With my hand aiding my hips with concentrated circles over her clit, I removed my mouth from hers to gaze at her face and watch as she whimpered. _

"_Look at me, Isabella," I pleaded, wanting nothing more than to watch her face as she came. "Are you close?" _

It was pathetic, but I knew that even in fantasy, I had no clue what I was doing.

"_Yes, so close," she answered._

Since it was my fucking imagination, I could pretend I was the fucking man like that.

The spark in my stomach was approaching critical mass, and I knew that I would be coming in a matter of moments, so I roughly fisted my dick, focusing on the sensitive skin beneath the head. Placing one of my hands against the wall, I leaned forward, allowing my hips to pump furiously, and water fell over my lips as I moaned loudly.

_My cock nestled perfectly along her sex, the tip of my dick on top of her clit as I pushed back and forth. The stretcher groaned with the repeated shifting of our bodies upon it, and I couldn't give a shit and half if anyone caught us. My chin fell against my chest, but I raised my eyes while my hand went into her hair so I could lock our gaze. I wanted to watch her fall apart, to come undone below me and know that only I had made her feel that way. _

_And with one final push of my hips, her eyes slammed shut as she cried out my name into the air between us. Not one thought about how she knew it or how unbelievably fucked up the whole situation was - like why I was dry-humping Isabella during a possible concussion - crossed my mind, as I was too far gone. _

With several short strokes along my dick, fireworks exploded behind my closed eyes, brighter than Macy's could have ever dreamed of doing on the fourth of July.

"Isabella!" I shouted, and my cries bounced off the tiles as I worked myself through my fucktastic release.

My heart was still pounding in my ears when I recognized several things once. One, my phone's distinct alert tone, signaling Isabella had tweeted. Two, the water in my shower was awfully cold. And three... the unmistakable laugher and voice of my father.

"Emmett! You owe me twenty bucks!" I heard him call out. "I told you I'd find out her name before he got out of the bathroom."

Seriously, I needed to find out who's Cheerios I had fucking peed in to deserve the fucking day I'd had.

And as if shit couldn't have possibly gotten any fucking worse, I'd nearly cried when I read what Isabella had tweeted.

**NoSleepTill718: Waiting on a hot murse to give me my sponge bath.**

No, really, it was fine. There wasn't any cause for concern when I considered searching for Dr. Kevorkian's fucking replacement to ease the pain.

Permanently.

_Wouldn't you have done the same thing if your father interrupted you masturbating about the girl you'll never get? Or how about if that happens after your brother sent her to the fucking emergency room? Now, imagine finding out that she's waiting for some guy to rub a damn cast member of Finding fucking Nemo against her perfect skin. _

_Yeah. I know. _

_Pity, party of one?_

So, I handled the situation in a very adult, calm, and mature manner.

...If I were an eleven-year-old girl in middle school.

I tweeted back. Not directly to her, since that would have taken balls, and, clearly, I didn't have those.

**JavaTheHuttt: Hot Murse? Men look stupid in colorful scrubs with smiley faces.**

_Take THAT!_

The statement probably would have had more of an impact if I had told her she had cooties, too.

_You know, since I'm trying to insult a bully for stealing my lunch money. Or a male nurse for stealing my pussy. Same difference. _

"Edward!" my father yelled. "Don't masturbate in repeated intervals! You'll chafe the skin!"

_I really, really fucking hate my life. _

X-X-X

"Emmett!" I yelled, walking out of the bedroom in only a pair of jeans and holding my shirt in my hands. "Why is Shlongmaster Sex here?"

"Edward," my father chastised, shirtless, from the couch in my living room. "I'm your father. A little respect please."

As I walked into the room completely, I noticed that my father was not only sans shirt, he was sans everything.

Yep, my father was completely fucking naked and hanging out on my couch.

"Dad, could you put some clothes on? I moved out to get away from the nakedness. I require pants in my apartment," I said, looking over at my brother, who was standing in the kitchen with an amused grin on his face.

"Well, that would explain why you're engaging in masturbation then, wouldn't it? If you allowed people to remove clothing in your presence, you might actually get to enjoy the act of being naked with someone other than yourself," my father said softly.

I shook my head. "Wow, thanks Dad. That's exactly what I needed to hear today," I paused, trying to figure out which way to get my shirt on. "Wait, what are you doing here anyway?"

"Emmett called."

"I did, iffs twoo," Emmett chimed in around a mouthful of food.

"Why?"

He swallowed, then walked into the living room and took a seat on the only chair that was an acceptable distance away from my father's sack. "You need help, bro. I think that this whole thing with your girl..."

"...Isabella," my father interrupted, clearly pleased that he won whatever bet the two of them had made.

"Yeah, Isabella, is way out of control. You want her? You're gonna need all the help you can get."

I sighed. "I don't think I need..."

"Dude, you need it. Trust me. Let's start by getting your ass to a gym, man. You look like the skeleton that hangs in a science classroom."

"What?" I asked, looking down. "I have abs, Em. See? I can count them."

"Yes, but that's only attractive if you can't count your ribs as well. Anyway, first, let's get you to talk to her."

"I talk to her," I said defensively, then pulled my shirt over my head. "We do the whole Twitter thing."

"Twitter?" my father asked.

"Yeah, Twitter. It's this website where you write short messages to peop...you know what, it's just a thing that's too complicated for someone your age. Just, accept it."

Twitter was actually a sore subject at this point. The tweet that Isabella had sent was about some douchebag male nurse about to give her a sponge bath had stung. A lot. I was all for attentive staff looking after her, but that shit was just a bit too far. And she had called him hot.

Again, what the fuck had I done in a previous life? Was I the one piece of the iceberg responsible for sinking the fucking Titanic or something?

"Oh man," Emmett said, getting up from the couch and walking over to me. "I know that look. What happened? Did you talk to her?"

I shrugged, looking down at the floor, and not acknowledging anything. But, I should have known my non-answers wouldn't fly.

"Edward, tell us what happened so we can help you," my father encouraged while thankfully, still seated.

_I'm going to have to get that couch fumigated. _

Without a word, I pulled my phone from my pocket and showed the text to Emmett. He dragged me over to the chair he had just vacated and forced me to sit down with a hand on my shoulder, then went to get a stool from the breakfast bar.

"This is probably a joke, bro."

I just stared at him.

"What did it say?" my father asked and Emmett read the short message to him. "Ah, yes. Don't you see what she's doing? Edward, this girl is probably just trying to get a rise out of you. It's a commonly used social tool in order for a woman to judge whether or not a potential partner is interested. What you need to do now is tell me the entire story. Let me help you."

Honestly, I had nothing left to lose. Well, except for dignity, though I wasn't sure if I even had that to begin with. People with dignity, morals, and social skills didn't do I what I did. So, I told him the entire story from start to finish, leaving no detail unsaid. We even went as far as letting him read some of the tweets sent back and forth between me and Isabella.

All of the ones I _didn't_ wanted him to know about.

Yeah, it wasn't pleasant.

My father crossed his legs, and I tried not to vomit. "I must say, Edward. I do believe she's interested. And you say that she asked you to 'lay down with her on the stretcher' while in the ambulance?"

I nodded.

"Well, I think the next step is to respond to the message directly. No beating around the bush - well, not if you want to gain access to the bush. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

I shuddered, disgusted that my father had referenced anything in regards to Isabella's girl parts. "Yes," I said quietly, though he didn't realize that I had already responded earlier, when I had read the message, in a completely passive aggressive manner.

Before anyone could speak, my phone chimed its telltale tone. I looked at it like it was the fucking answer to P versus NP or something.

"I'm guessing that's her," my father said, amused, and Emmett chuckled next to me.

"Yeah, it is."

The tweet was directly to me, calling me on my bullshit answer, and I smiled. Not just because she didn't tell me I was a fucking pansy, when she would have been completely justified, but because she thought I could pull off smiley faced scrubs. Isabella was adorable, fantastic, and all around wonderful, but it seemed that her sense of what fashion would work with my particular attributes was far off the mark. Though it did sound like she wanted me to give her the sponge bath. I asked the resident sexperts in the room, and they agreed.

Playful banter was something I would have normally enjoyed, but my main concern was how she was doing. I answered her question honestly. I mean, I did, in fact, own a sponge. When she wrote back, I saw that she was actually going to try and consume food from a hospital cafeteria.

Emmett was watching the exchange from over my shoulder and read everything to my father.

"This is your chance, Edward!" Emmett yelled, and I cringed, my ears ringing. "Sorry, but seriously!"

"He's right, Edward. Ask her what she wants to eat. You know, I wooed your mother through her love of food. Well, that and other things."

"Dad," I said, holding up my hand and channeling my inner Diana Ross. "I really don't want to know about you and Mom, okay? Trust me, I know more than enough about the two of you. And, could you please put some damn pants on?"

"Edward, just ask the girl what she wants to eat. I have a plan," my father said deviously.

Isabella and I went back and forth, and she told me of her desire for something called Five Guys, and Emmett was extremely excited about it. I didn't understand.

"Seriously, man. It's like a fucking orgasm on a bun. That shit is ridiculous," Emmett moaned and rubbed his stomach like fucking Buddha. My father laughed.

While the two of them were distracted, I was curious as to whether or not my father had been correct in assuming that the male nurse was just a ploy...so I asked.

I shouldn't have.

**NoSleepTill718 (a)JavaTheHutt: Mmhmm. And now he's working his way up my thighs, water dripping from his sponge. Feels. So. Good.**

My response was almost immediate, and I got up from the living room to walk away from the so-called experts. They were supposed to be helping me, not fueling my delusions about Isabella. But hearing this had hurt. Like the getting kicked in the balls, kinda hurt.

Walking into Linux's room, I sat down on the floor, and she curled in my lap. I had been so stupid. Honestly, I would have been better off investing in some mail order bride...at least then, she'd have to put up with me. Scratching Lin behind the ears with one hand, I quickly typed yet another passive aggressive update, and I paused before hitting the send button. Linux had other ideas though. She swatted the hand poised over the send button with her paw, effectively updating my status.

**JavaTheHuttt: Is the way to a woman's heart through her stomach or underwater sea creature?**

Even if Isabella wasn't interested in me, it _was_ in some part my fault that she was in the hospital in the first place – the least I could have done was feed her.

I made the call.

"Hello, Five Guys, what can I get you?" the voice through the phone asked.

"Uh, hi. Well, um, do you guys deliver to hospitals?"

"Yeah, we do. Where's it going?"

I gave the guy the address, room number, and order along with my credit card information before hanging up, slightly disturbed that I was ordering carcass. But, I would have given Isabella the moon had she asked for it. Hell, she could have asked for broccoli from China and I'd probably be looking at flights right now.

A tweet had come in while I was on the phone, and I couldn't stop the slight chuckle that left my lips.

**NoSleepTill718 (a)JavaTheHutt: Stomach. Definitely stomach. Although a miniature seahorse is a close second.**

Standing up, I was about to make my way back into the living room, content that I could have at least made Isabella smile and less hungry, another message tone blared in the air.

**NoSleepTill718 (a)JavaTheHutt: P.S. hi. My name is Bella and I like miniature sea creatures.**

Bella.

Beautiful.

It was perfect, and I told her as much. The sea creatures line made me laugh, and I stupidly quoted one of the greatest fucking movies of all time, Finding Nemo.

_Fuck you, I still watch Pixar films. That shit is genius. Oh, and way more amusing than real movies when you're high. _

Apparently, she was being stalked by an evil nurse, and I was furious. How dare someone interrupt an actual fucking conversation? Well, not really an actual conversation, since you can't really do that in 140 characters...but still. It was fucking progress. But most importantly, she'd asked for my name.

**JavaTheHuttt (a)NoSleepTill718: I'm Edward. Feel better, Bella.**

"Whoa! What the fuck happened in the time you made with the emo time out, dude?" Emmett asked from the doorway.

"What're you talking about?"

"The fucking smile on your damn face, bro. What'd she do? Tell you she loved you or something?"

"No, nothing like that."

Without warning, Emmett stole my phone from my hand and ran into the living room.

"Give it back, Em!" I shouted, chasing him around the couch where my father was on the phone with whom I could only assume was my mother.

"Oh, my dearest, I love that trick you do with your tongue...Oh, Edward! You're back. Say hello to your mother."

"Hi, Mom," I said, unenthusiastically.

"Lover, darling, I must go. But, I'll be home soon. Be waiting for me...uh huh, yes...No, in the red one. I want to rip it off with my teeth...Okay, okay. Love you. Bye." My father closed the phone.

I didn't want to think about where he might have kept it.

"Edward, so, Dad and I were talking, and we think you should go see her," Emmett said.

"What? Are you crazy? No!" I shouted, walking into the kitchen and grabbing something to drink from the fridge.

"It's true, Edward. After everything you've told me, I think it's best you go and see her. And more importantly, you tell her everything. It's cruel to lead the girl on like this," my father added.

"But...no. Absolutely not. I'm not going to tell her! She's probably got a concussion! And, no. No. No."

"Get out," Emmett responded with a wave of his hand towards the door.

"Uh, fuck you. I live here. _You_ get out."

"Just go, Edward. Trust me. It's a grand gesture. Women love that shit!" he exclaimed, grabbing me by the shoulders and leading me to the doorway. "Just, do it. Before you can think twice."

And with that, I was forced out of my own fucking apartment, my brother and my naked father still inside. The door opened seconds later, and my keys came flying at me.

_Whatever happened to free will?_

X – X – X

It appeared as if my luck had changed when I got to the lobby of the hospital. Well, almost. It had only taken three different cabs to get me there. Not because they hadn't known where they were going, but because my dumb, indecisive ass had gotten out twice with every intention of going back home. Until, of course, the texts started.

**From: Emmett Cullen - Don't be a chicken shit.**

**From: Dad – Trust me.**

**From: Emmett Cullen – You're a fucking pussy.**

**From: Dad – It's only fair. Do the right thing. I raised you better than this.**

**From: Mom – I want grandchildren.**

**From: Dad – Your mother gets ahead of herself. Talk to the girl.**

**From: Emmett Cullen – Dude, I'm not popping out a fucking kid. That's your job. **

**From: Dad – Ignore your brother. **

**From: Mom – Edward, sex is healthy. You should enjoy it. I could find someone for you.**

**From: Dad – Your mother is serious Edward. She's calling around.**

**From: Mom – If this doesn't work, I found a girl named Helga. She's Alexis' daughter.**

**From: Emmett Cullen – Haha, Helga is a 350lb weightlifter with a mustache. Have fun.**

Strangely enough, the second of three cab rides stopped on a corner where a vendor was selling necklaces on the street. At least it wasn't a fucking dude playing a banjo with two strings and no pants. Just as I was raising my hand to hail yet another cab home - or to someplace without fucking cell service - a small silver figurine leapt into view.

A motherfucking seahorse.

Yeah, if that wasn't a fucking sign...

I bought the necklace, my phone vibrating in my pocket nonstop, and I nearly offered it to the woman as payment.

Finally, I'd had enough, got into the final cab and sent one response.

**To: Mom, Dad, Emmett Cullen: I'M GOING. PLEASE STOP NOW. **

Somehow, I'd managed to catch the delivery guy at the front desk, and it took showing him both my license and credit card in order to get the damn food in my possession. Unfortunately, I'd done this all in front of the fucking security guard, who'd watched the entire exchange while laughing and clearly knew my last name wasn't Swan.

I was fucked.

"Hello, I'm assuming you're here to visit a patient?" he asked, still chuckling.

"Um, yeah. Yes. I mean, of course." I thought I was going to be sick. "Why else would I be here?"

_Just fucking say you're her friend, dumbass. Then security can kick you out after she tries to kill you when you tell her everything. _

"Name of the patient?"

"Bella, I mean, Isabella Swan," I said, my voice shaking with nerves. "Do you want to know her birthday too?"

"No, that's fine. I'm sorry, but only immediate family is allowed to visit right now, son. Visiting hours for that floor ended an hour ago."

"That's okay! I mean, I understand that but, uh, I am. You know, um, immediate family."

_What the fuck are you doing?_

His eyebrows raised as he smirked. "Oh yeah? How so?"

"Uh, huh. I'm...I'm her fiancé."

_Wait...WHAT? _

"Yeah?" he asked, and I wasn't sure if he had believed me. Fuck, _I_ couldn't believe me.

"Sorry for being all weird about it. It's really new, and we haven't told anyone yet. And um, I wasn't sure about hospital policy. I mean, that counts, right? I managed to squeak out.

"Yeah, of course it counts. Let me just print out a badge with the proper identification and then you can head on up. Can I have your license?"

I gave him a weak smile. And my driver's license. And my validation ticket for the gates of Hell. "Thanks."

As soon as that piece of laminated plastic was clipped on to my shirt, I took off like Augustus towards the chocolate waterfall and never looked back.

X –X – X

"Hi, can I help you?" a somewhat bearded woman behind the nurses station asked.

"Yeah, um, I'm looking for Isabella Swan's room?"

"Fine. She's right there on the left. Room 587." She vaguely gestured in a direction, but I was too distracted by the flapping of her arm fat to notice. It was kind of like that guy with the wings from X-Men, only female. Though, the facial hair could have fooled me.

"Uh, thanks," I said, and I started walking, only to stop after three strides and head back to the desk. "Actually, do you think you could give this to her? I'm uh, just going to um, use the bathroom, I think."

_Ladies and Gentlemen, this is what being a pussy looks like. _

"Fine," she griped, grabbing the bag from my hands.

My fingers fiddled with the necklace in my pocket, and I tried to muster up the courage to go and speak to Bella, but I couldn't. With my heart in my throat, I retreated towards the elevators only to hear chicken-nurse speaking.

"Isabella? Your fiancé just dropped this off for you, and he'll be here in a second. He just went to use the bathroom or something."

I fucking froze like I'd been dropped in liquid nitrogen. Ripping the badge off my shirt, I looked down, only to see a sticker with the word "fiancé" on it.

_Since when in the fucking had they implemented this particular system? _

There were quiet sounds coming from Bella's room, but I couldn't make out what she was saying. I heard Nurse Fucked-It-All-Up, though. Loud and fucking clear.

"Yeah, your fiancé. Tall, reddish-brown hair, green eyes. You should know, you're the one marrying him."

My feet had never moved so fast.

As I approached the door to Isabella's room, the nurse turned and glared at me. She pointed her nasty finger in my face, then brushed by me with an exaggerated huff. I watched her go back to her nest - aka behind the desk - before I burst into Bella's room. She was even more beautiful than I remembered.

There was no controlling my mouth, and unfortunately, I failed. Badly. The United States had better pray that I would never be held hostage by an enemy nation.

We would have been fucked.

Just like I fucked myself upside down, sideways, and backwards when I opened my fucking mouth in Bella's hospital room.

"Listen Bella, I can explain. I swear. It really isn't as bad as it sounds. Well, actually, yeah. I mean, it kinda is. No. But there's a, um, a uh, completely logical explanation for why that just happened. I'm not crazy. It's just that I wanted to make sure that you were okay, and then you said that you were hungry. And you eat. Food. You know...hunger...when that happens. Since food is good. Well, I don't eat that stuff, but you do, and that's okay. Because, um, well, I uh, well I think you're wonderful. And I promise I can explain."

Feeling really fucking uncomfortable, I started pacing and took off my glasses so I couldn't see the look on her face when I confessed to being the biggest fucking asshole on the planet.

"You see, I know you. Well, not _know_ you. But I know about you. It's kinda like my job, you see? And I guess, I made a huge mistake. I should have... Fuck."

I stopped pacing and pinched the bridge of my nose in one hand. Biting my lip for a moment, I twirled my glasses in my hands and stared at the floor.

"Let me just start from the beginning, okay? I just, well, so, you left me the note, but I didn't know what it said, and there was mail on the floor, and cabbage, and I got your address because that's what I do. Computers, I mean. It's just my thing. It's, um, well, a hobby...but not really. Now it's a job, well, not finding your address, but I did. Do that. For the mail. Then, I sent you that e-mail, but I wasn't thinking - that's Emmett's fault. He made the drinking happen, and then I sent it, and I found Twitter, and I talked to you. But I know a lot...about stuff."

I ran a hand through my hair, closed my eyes and turned to face the wall. My face was so hot, it could have been deemed the eighth circle of hell.

"And I saw the picture, well, pictures, really, and you were, um, well, you _are_ really beautiful. And I wanted to talk to you, but I'm really bad at that. Like, really bad. Um, like, I don't really know how, and I'm sorry, and I really like you a lot, and I know that everything is my fault, but I wanted to see you and tell you everything about what I did so you can forgive me. Uh, I um, I made mistake. Big mistake. I shouldn't have looked at that stuff, but I did. And I called here before. And found out the ambulance number and then called again. I didn't talk though, but you knew that. So, yeah. I'm uh. Fuck. I'm really an idiot, and I like you a lot, and I really want you to like me to since I think about you all the time, and your smile, and your eyes. You just, I don't, fuck! I'm babbling aren't I? I'm babbling."

I lightly banged my forehead against the wall at my stupidity.

"I'm not your fiancé, but if I didn't say it because of the license thing then I couldn't see you and there were cabs involved. And the seahorse. And now I'm standing here, and I want to apologize for everything. If I could take it back, I would, and I've never said that about anything that I've ever done when I was hacking because, I mean, that's what I'm good at. Really. That's well, that's me. And that's how I found you, and I want to stay here. With you."

With the last words, I put my glasses back on, but kept my eyes shut as I turned to face Isabella in bed. I gulped, loudly, and opened my mouth one last time.

"Oh, and yeah. I'm, uh. Well, uh, I'm...I'm Edward."

* * *

**A/N: Yeaaaaah. Hmm, wonder how things are going to happen in the future... **

**SPEAKING of the future, Yoga and I decided to put ourselves out there for Fandom Gives Back, and we're doing things a little differently. Outtakes wouldn't make sense, since, you know, we don't have a fucking plot, so, instead, we're offering readers the chance to purchase characters and plot points! Basically, if you want to introduce Jasper as Edward and Emmett's long lost Amish cousin, buy it. Want Bella and Edward to take a cruise? Buy it. Really, this story is as much yours as it is ours. **

**Again, thank you all for your patience. I don't anticipate the wait for updates to take that long EVER again. EVER. So, yeah. Hope you enjoyed it! **

**Yoga's up next, and I'm DYING to know how this is going to work out. **

**Until next time,  
**

**L – **

**::climbs back in hole::**


	10. Finger Lickin' Good

**A/N: I was a little O_o when I read Lara's chapter, and had to think long and hard (that's what she said) to figure out Bella's next step. Hackerward just spewed out his dorkalicious guts - let's see what B's gonna do about it.**

**Big spanks and love to the bombtastic Lexiecullen17 for betaing this puppy. And big thanks and love to all of you for sticking with us through this craziness and for all your reviews. Lara and I are still pretty certain we have the best readers/reviewers EVER!**

**_Disclaimer: _I don't own any of this. If I did, I'd probably have a plot...**

* * *

I must have been hallucinating. With my eyes still pinned straight ahead, I fumbled for the call button, certain that I had a concussion. Or maybe when I got hit in the head with the basketball, it dislodged a brain tumor or something. _What? It could happen. _I think I saw an episode of _House_ that started that way. I knew there was something screwy going on with my head because there was absolutely no way that Edward was standing in front of me. Maybe I was dreaming; that would make sense. I had been sleepy...

After pouting for a while over the absolutely absurd confiscation of my cell phone, I had flipped on the television hoping to distract myself. Unfortunately, with nothing decent on, my eyelids started to droop, and I yawned right through Double Jeopardy. One minute I had been drifting off, _Wheel of Fortune_ playing in the background, and the next, Edward was standing in my hospital room, his chest heaving, while holding a very familiar-looking white bag with red lettering. I blinked a few times, wondering each time if the man in front of me would disappear. Instead, he was still there. Everything else was a blur; I only saw Edward.

My eyes zeroed in on his face, and I stared at the chiseled features covered in five o'clock scruff. His eyes were bright and sparkly and even a little wild looking. I could see them clearly because, for some reason, he wasn't wearing his adorkable glasses. I wondered what happened to them. I finally allowed my gaze to drift further down, and it was only then that I noticed that Edward was talking. His cherry red lips were moving up and down, very rapidly, actually. As I watched his lips curl, open and straighten as they formed various words, I realized that I hadn't been listening to a word he was saying. I shook my head, and suddenly, the murky haze that had descended when he entered lifted, and I heard his voice, quickly rambling.

"If I could take it back, I would, and I've never said that about anything that I've ever done when I was hacking because, I mean, that's what I'm good at. Really. That's well, that's me. And that's how I found you, and I want to stay here. With you."

I furrowed my brow, completely confused by Edward's words. _Hacking? Found me? _What the hell was he talking about? My mind tried to grasp at whatever it could, but I had clearly missed too much of his little monologue to full comprehend what the hell he was talking about. I was conscious enough to focus on the last part. He wanted to stay here... with me. Grinning like a school girl, I allowed myself to do a little happy dance in the hospital bed before looking back up at Edward. He was placing his glasses, that had apparently been in his hand, back on his sweaty face.

""Oh, and yeah. I'm, uh. Well, uh, I'm...I'm Edward."

I wanted to giggle. I wanted to laugh and shake my head and let him know that of course I knew who he was. He was my Java. My...Edward. But all I could do was stare at him, still overwhelmed with the fact that he was in my room. I licked my lips, trying to figure out what should happen next. Edward wasn't much help; he was staring at me, waiting for me to actually say something.

"I want..." I croaked out, my throat suddenly incredibly dry.

I held up a finger, motioning for him to wait a second, before grabbing the cup of water next to me and downing it in three seconds flat. I licked my lips, ready to continue, but before I was able to speak again, Nurse Killjoy stormed into the room, putting her disgustingly meaty paws all over my Edward.

_What the hell?_

Edward began to protest, but I couldn't quite make out what exactly he was saying since the damn hosebeast from hell was forcibly pulling him out of the room. I sat up quickly, calling out to him but immediately fell back into the bed, my head swimming in pain from getting up too fast. Groaning, I grasped around the side of the bed, looking for the damn call button. Maybe if I could get a somewhat normal nurse in here, I would stand a chance at getting Edward back. Just as I pressed the button, Alice and Rose burst into the room, looking pissed.

"Where the fuck is he?" Rose snarled, looking around.

"Edward?" I asked, wondering how the hell Rose knew he was here.

"Edward?" Alice echoed, looking confused.

"Edward?" Rose exclaimed, and I began to feel like this was the beginning of a really bad comedy routine. "No, not Edward. Jake. Where the hell is that dirty dog?"

"Jake?" I asked, now extremely confused. What the hell was Rose talking about?

I gingerly tried to push myself up further and somehow managed to do so without causing my head to throb painfully. Both Rose and Alice walked over, so they were standing right by the bedside.

"What's going on? Why are you back here, and why the hell are you talking about Jake? And more importantly...where's Edward?" I whined.

Alice started shaking her head, while Rose grabbed my hand gently and began to speak.

"Edward?" she asked again as she patted my hand, and I wished somebody would just tell me what the fuck was going on. "No, honey. Edward wasn't here. Jake was. At least, we assumed it was Jake..." Rose trailed off, looking a bit uncertain.

"This one over here forgot her purse," Rose explained, nodding in Alice's direction.

"I must have left it here when we were visiting and didn't realize I had forgotten it until we were in line for some frozen yogurt," Alice said, looking slightly sheepish as she reached over to grab her neglected purse that was sitting next to one of the chairs.

"Okay, so that explains why you came back, but what's the story with Jake?" I asked, my eyes darting around the room as if he had somehow sneaked in while I wasn't looking.

"Oh, that!" said Rose with a wave of her hand. "When we came back up here, we overhead two nurses talking. Do you know that you have one Nurse who is a shlong away from looking like a man? I mean, seriously, she has a pair of caterpillars for eyebrows, and I swear she's sporting a moustache too. It's kind of creepy..."

"Rose!" I shouted, snapping my fingers. "Pay attention, what were the nurses talking about?"

"Right. They were saying how adorable your fiance is. And of course, Alice and I know you're not engaged, so we assumed that Jake had tried to sneak in here and see you or something. We felt bad about before and how we weren't acting like your besties, so we decided to do you a solid and have him kicked out!" she exclaimed, clearly proud with herself.

I allowed her words to sink in. Alice and Rose thought that Jake was in my room. They thought they were doing me a favor by having him kicked out. I knew my brain was still a bit fuzzy from being pummeled by a basketball, but it was still able to put the pieces together. Slowly, everything clicked into place, and before I could stop myself, I was shouting at the top of my lungs.

"What the fuck? You bitches got Edward kicked out! Edward was in here, not Jake. Edward was here. I saw him! He was talking, saying a whole bunch of stuff. I'm not really sure what, but I'm pretty sure it ended with him wanting to be here with me. And Five Guys! He brought Five Guys with him. Which is like the most romantical thing ever, especially because he's a vegetarian. He was my fucking White Knight with Five Guys, and you whores had him kicked out? You owe me big for this!"

Alice and Rose just stood there, staring at me. They backed away from my bed slightly, as if I was going to lunge out at them and attack. They weren't totally wrong, either. I was pissed.

"E-e-edward?" stuttered Alice as she clutched her purse to her chest.

Rose just looked thoughtful for a moment before spotting something and bending over to get it. She tossed a paper bag in my direction before stepping a bit closer.

"Well, he left the Five Guys, if that's any consolation," she remarked.

I was about to go crazy ninja on Rose's ass, but the greasy scent wafting from the bag in my lap calmed me down. I peered inside to see a huge cup of fries and a wrapped burger. I quickly peeled back the wrapper, and remaining silent, I downed the entire thing in four huge bites. I then went after the fries, relishing how perfectly salty and delicious they were. I didn't even care that they were cold and kind of mushy already. They tasted like heaven - potatoey heaven. Both Rose and Alice knew better then to interrupt as I devoured my food and had the decency to stand there quietly for the entire five minutes it took to eat it all up.

"Now then, how are you two going to fix this clusterfuck?" I asked, licking the residual salt off my fingertips.

I hoped they would come up with a magical way to get Edward back in here right this second, but my prospects weren't looking very bright.

"Um..."

"Well..."

Clearly, neither of them had a single idea, and I was stuck here in this hospital bed until the next day. I didn't even have my cell phone, so I couldn't tweet Edward a thank you or anything. That just gave me an idea.

"You can start by getting my cell phone back from the lovely nurse that stole it. Nurse FurryFace took it from me and won't give it back until I leave. How am I supposed to get in touch with Edward to sort this whole thing out?"

Rosalie nodded, her face resolved.

"I can do it. Be right back."

She straightened herself up, fluffed her hair, squared her shoulders and headed out the door - a woman on a mission.

"Oh, I hope she gets it," said Alice nervously.

"Me too, Alice."

"So, why the heck did Edward say he was your fiance?" she asked, and I realized I hadn't even thought about that part of this whole thing.

"I have no idea. All I know is that one minute I was falling asleep and the next he was in here, rambling about something, looking ridiculously adorable," I swooned.

Alice walked over and sat in a chair close by and looked thoughtful for a moment.

"You didn't go and get engaged behind our backs, did you?" she asked.

"No, you freak. Do you really think I would do that?" I answered, shaking my head.

"Well, no...but you did agree to meet up with a man you only knew via Twitter, so..."

I had just enough energy in me to toss a pillow at her, and we both doubled over in laughter. Once we were able to calm down, Alice hopped up on the bed with me and I scooted over, allowing plenty of space for her small frame to relax.

"Don't scare me like that again, B. I don't like seeing you in a hospital bed like that," she whispered.

"You know it wasn't anything serious," I told her in a quiet voice.

"Yeah, I guess. But seeing you on the ground like that," she shuddered and wrapped her arms around me. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"Me too, Al. Me too."

And like that, our Lifetime moment passed, and we started talking about other stuff, like why the hell Edward said he was my fiance.

"I think he really, really likes you," said Alice seriously.

"Yeah?"

"Totes. He was all panicky and nervous after you left in the ambulance and clearly he had to pull major strings to figure out where you were and how to get to you here, you know?"

I thought back to the little bit I remembered from Edward's long speech.

"I...I think he might have hacked into the hospital's computers!" I exclaimed.

"Whoa, really? That's hardcore," says Alice, but she looks impressed.

"Yeah. Totally hardcore. I guess that's how he knew what room I was in. Maybe the fiance stuff was just so the nurses would let him in?"

For some reason, the fact that Edward only pretended to be my fiance made me a little crestfallen, which was absolutely ridiculous, since we'd only just met and of course he wouldn't _really _be my fiance. Then, for some unholy reason, I started thinking about what my imaginary wedding to Edward would look like. He would probably be all nerdalicious in a tux but wearing something super geeky like Converse on his feet. I would certainly not be rocking the white wedding dress, but maybe I could do an nice pale pink kick ass short dress. I remember seeing something I liked in a magazine once. We'd make our rings out of something edgy, like titanium or something - nerdy enough for him, and funky enough for me. He could even have his own groom cake in the shape of Leia's buns or something...

"Stop," demanded Alice, and I turn to look at her.

"Stop what?" I asked innocently.

"Whatever you're thinking. Stop it. You have that dumbass glazed over look, and it can only lead to trouble. What were you daydreaming about? White picket fence? Two point five kids?"

I shrugged, since she wasn't so far off from the truth.

"I just...why did he say fiance? He could have easily had said brother, right?" I asked Alice, still not believing that this all just happened.

"Duh, Bella," Alice said with a roll of her eyes. "Because he puffy hearts you."

I shrugged again, still not ready to accept that. I mean, we had a semi-flirty vibe via Twitter, but that's all I really had to base things off of, so it was hard to tell. I really hoped that Alice was right, though. Before I was able to doubt myself any further, Alice and I were interrupted by Rosalie, who walked back in, pale faced with her eyes trained on the ground. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and her shirt looked a bit askew. Rosalie thrust her hand out at me, my cell phone sitting in her palm. I snatched it back from her and asked what had happened. She shook her head, a shaky finger coming up to her lips.

"Shh...let's just say we're even now, and we will never speak of this again. Alice," she said, heading towards the door. "Let's go. I need a shower. Oh, and Bella?"

"Hmm?" I hummed out, my fingers already flying through my phone to the Twitter app.

"He better be worth it."

I hugged my phone close, knowing that Rosalie must have really taken one for the team, and I smiled to myself, knowing that Edward was totally worth it. I quickly checked to see if he had updated since he'd been thrown out and was a little disappointed to see that he had yet to do so. With somewhat shaky fingers, I typed in a status update, hoping to lure him out.

**NoSleepTill718: Reading all those fairytales, nobody every told me that my prince would be the one carrying hamburgers before being hauled off my the ugly troll.**

I waited around, twiddling my thumbs to keep from obsessively checking my Twitter feed every thirty seconds. Finally, after what seemed like forever, but based on my phone's clock was really only four and half minutes, Edward posted something. It was a reply right to me, and I couldn't help but giggle at his tweet.

**JavaTheHuttt (a)NoSleepTill718: ...not to sound conceited, but r u talking about me? I just... wait, ur not mad?**

I had a hard time ever imagining the dorkalicious boy I had briefly met today ever coming across as conceited. Of course I was talking about him. Le duh. Why would he think I'd be mad though?

**NoSleepTill718 (a)JavaTheHuttt**: **Maaaaaybe. And yes, I'm mad, but not at YOU. I'm pissed at the crazyass Nurse who hauled you out! **

I stopped short about going on a tirade about Nurse CrazyPants. When I finally got out of this place, I was going to write a letter to the hospital detailing every evil thing she had done. It wouldn't hurt to remind the hospital board that BDSM dungeons were probably not the place to go picking out staff. While I quietly fumed, Edward must have been typing away because not a minute later, he responded.  
**  
JavaTheHuttt (a)NoSleepTill718: But about what I said... you aren't angry? Isn't that why you had me thrown out? **

I read his tweet a few times and did my best to recall what he had said. I didn't get why his panties were in such a twist. Why did he think I was going to be mad at him? He said if he could take it back, he would. But to be honest, I wasn't one-hundred percent sure what "it" was. I assumed he meant the hacking into the hospital computers to find my room number or something. Or maybe he thought I would be upset that he lied about his relationship with me in order to see me? If only he knew that I was already planning our fake wedding... I couldn't let him think I was angry.

**NoSleepTill718 (a)JavaTheHuttt**:** No! I didn't have u thrown out! Rose/Alice did. Not on purpose. They thought u were Jake!** **Why would I be angry? It was sweet.**

**JavaTheHuttt (a)NoSleepTill718:** **Sweet? Um, yeah. Emmett says otherwise. But you understand? It's okay?**

Man, he really wasn't letting up with this. I tried really hard to think if I was missing something, but it just made my head hurt, so I stopped. I really wasn't concerned with whatever computer hijinks Edward had done to try and find me in the hospital. Sure...it might have been illegal, but hadn't we all done something like that at one time or another. I was certainly no angel. I'd cut tags off mattresses and eaten grapes from the bunch before paying. It was kinda like that, right? The more I thought about it, though, the more it did seem kind of serious. What if they caught him surfing their mainframe? I wasn't even sure that was the right term, but between multiple viewings of _The Matrix_ and _Criminal Minds_, I was somewhat familiar with the seedy side of illegal hacking. Sort of.

**NoSleepTill718: (a)JavaTheHuttt Totally sweet. :) Although I didn't quite get the hacking. Oh shit! Is it ok I typed that? Are they watching you now?**

I kept refreshing my screen, waiting for Edward's reply, but as the minutes ticked by I started to get concerned. Did I scare him off with my fear of Big Brother? Finally, I noticed I had a new DM, and rushed to check it.  
**  
Direct Message to (a)NoSleepTill718: Um, is this okay? Or, um, is it okay if I maybe call you? To explain? **

My eyes bugged out at the message, and I had to stop my fingers from typing back "CALL ME NAOOOOOOO!" Apparently, my fingers had a direct line to my vag, and they were in cahoots to get more Edward time. However, the rational part of my brain reminded me not to push my luck with the phone. All I needed was to be in a hot and heavy phone convo with Edward, panting and moaning - hey, you never know - only to get my phone confiscated again. That was not going to happen.

**Direct Message to** **(a)JavaTheHuttt: I can't do phone, already ninja tweeting as it is. But, maybe...email? or I can do gchat from my phone if you have it.**  
_  
Please please please say you have gmail._ I crossed fingers and toes until they started to tingle and lose a little bit of feeling. I crossed my eyes for good measure, but then realized I couldn't read the tiny screen that way. I uncrossed them just in time to see Edward's response.  
**  
Direct Message to (a)NoSleepTill718: Um, I'll be back at my apartment in a minute. Gchat then?  
**  
_Fistpump! _No, seriously, I actually went and shoved my fist up in the air, and perhaps accompanied it with a slight shout of glee. I really shouldn't have been this excited to gchat with somebody, but I really wanted to know more about Edward. Like, why did he even bother trying to find me at the hospital? And...could he possibly bring me more Five Guys? Instead of bombarding him with questions, I used my one-hundred and forty characters to give him the important info.

**Direct Message to** **(a)JavaTheHuttt:** **Sounds, good. I'll be here, waiting. I'm brssmnkyjnkie (at) gmail (dot) com - ping me! **

Then, I turned on my phone's gchat program and waited.

* * *

**A/N: duh duh duh...**

**What will happen next? Will Hackerward get hit by a bus on the way to his apartment and be unable to make their gchat date? Will Em or heaven forbid nekkid Carlisle get to his computer first? I have no effing clue. Only Lara does, so we'll have to wait and see what her twisted mind has in store for us.**

**Speaking of twisted minds...We're offering up a chance for you all to exercise YOURS! Lara and I have put ourselves out there for Fandom Gives Back, and we're doing things a little differently. Outtakes wouldn't make sense, since, you know, we don't have a fucking plot, so, instead, we're offering readers the chance to purchase characters and plot points! Basically, if you want to introduce Jasper as Edward and Emmett's long lost Amish cousin, buy it. Want Bella and Edward to take a cruise? Buy it. Really, this story is as much yours as it is ours. **

**Until next time, kittens! xo  
**


	11. FGB Announcement!

*ducks & hides*

We know this isn't a real update and that you're all probably tossing rotten tomatoes at your screens now because of that. Don't. Really. The nasty tomato juice will drip into your computers and short them out and then you won't be able to read our update when it reaaaaaaaaaally happens. Which should be soon. ish.

But...we have good reason for the lame-ass fake out - **Fandom Gives Back!** You can't be mad at us now, can you? Not when we're trying to raise money to help fight cancer...right? So, here's the 411 - we're h00ring ourselves out for this incredibly wonderful cause and you can be a part of it. We're offering you, are insanely delicious and absolutely wonderful readers, the chance to influence this story without a plot. We have no clue what's going to happen, so at least somebody should. And that somebody could be YOU!

For only $25 you can buy our souls and tell us what you want to see in this fic. Do you want Edward and Bella to finally be in the same room for more than 5 minutes? BUY US!

Do you want Bella and Edward to engage in a game of naughty Twister? BUY US!

Perhaps you want to see what happens in a special workshop run by Esme & Carlisle... BUY US and we'll show you - you crazy, dirty bird!

Maybe Emmett decides to buy a potbellied pig and it gets into a heated territory match with Linux...you ask...we'll write, just... BUY US!

You say you want us to introduce Jasper as an undercover CIA agent who spends his days running an ice cream truck? BUY US!

We know you've always envisioned having the entire gang meet up at the bar for a night of karaoke fun - BUY US and we'll make your dream true!

For more info and to bid head on over to:

**http:/www(DOT)thefandomgivesback(DOT)com/item(DOT)php?id=310**

There's only a couple days left, folks!

* * *

and now...for sitting through this PSA, we'll give you a small taste of our next update. An amuse bouche, if you will, for all you Top Chef fans out there!

* * *

O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O x O_O

**3dW4rD:** Wait, before... you said that your friends thought I was Jake? Is he your fiance? Since, that would make sense. Except for the throwing him out part. That doesn't really make sense.

**brssmnkyjnkie**: Oh, shit. ick! no! Jake is NOT my fiance. He's...he's my ex-boyfriend.

**3dW4rD:** So you're um, you know, not with him?

**3dW4rD:** I mean, you're, um, not with someone else?

**3dW4rD:** I would understand if you were! I mean, you're... you.

**brssmnkyjnkie**: You need to stop with the compliments, Edward. You're going to make my not so shameless ego swell even bigger than it is. ha! but no...I am definitely not with Jake. And...I'm actually not with anybody. Totally single.

**brssmnkyjnkie**: What about you?

**3dW4rD:** I'm surprised Webster hasn't called to ask for my photo to put next to the word "single" in the dictionary as an example.

**3dW4rD:** Wow, that sounded pretty fucking pathetic.

**3dW4rD:** Shit, should I not swear? Does that bother you?

**3dW4rD:** What I meant to say was yes. Yes I'm uh, single.


End file.
